#//order up! one serving of feels with extra ow

[ronmanmob]

The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Has your muse ever faced any kind of discrimination or oppression for an aspect of themselves that they cannot change? How has this experience shaped their attitude toward that aspect of themselves? Have they ever perpetuated any kind of discrimination or oppression against others, whether unintentionally or deliberately? {ML & MH}

Classical Literature Meme

Upon a slender pedestrian bridge above a dual carriageway at perhaps half eleven at night, Ron sat beside Beth. He had his tobacco tin open in his lap and was mid-way through making up his tenth rolly out of filter, rizla and baccy measured by eye when her curiosity caught his ear. The topic paused his work for a beat; made his mind drift through the annals of his memory until it snagged where it needed to - on something he could share. Before he did though, Ron bought the part-rolled cig he was working on to his lips and ran the paper's adhesive edge by the tip of his tongue before folding it closed. Cigarette number ten wasn't for the tin though. This one Ron set between his lips and lit.

"--There's two fings abaht me I can't change, luv" he said, blowing a breath's-worth of smoke away from Beth before turning back to her. "Two tha's th'sort yer askin' abaht at least. Me sexuali'y, 'n me-" He gestured to his head, not wanting to say skizafrenia out loud. He'd not heard the word all day. It was a reprieve he didn't want broken.

"Me sexuali'y I've 'ad shit ovah. Y'sort'a expect it almos' i's tha' common - everyfin' fr'm side-eye glances t'avin' me teef kicked in in an alley when I was eighteen or so. Maybe nineteen. Tha's where I got-" Ron tipped his chin back and inclined his head slightly, gesturing to the scar that'd once been a wound so deep it split his chin open. "Twelve stitches-" he said, settling back as he'd been, chin dipped and shoulders hunched against the nip in the air. Another drag on his cigarette was puffed away from Beth before he spoke again. "-B'cause I smiled in th'wrong lad's vague direction on me way aht'a gay club..." Ron shook his head slowly, his gaze shifting somewhere middle-distance-ways. "I'll nevah undahstand it" he said, disbelief and confusion making his voice briefly quiet. "-Ow th'notion 'ov affection, want, off a membah ov y'own sex is so 'orrific tha' y'instinct is violence..."

Into the night another smoky exhalation escaped.

He'd need another cigarette soon if he kept this up.

"Anyway." Back to usual volume now; back to Beth with his full attention. "Tha' fuckery - s'cuse me - it didn't scare me inta no closet. If anyfin' it did th'oppasit. Ain't nuffin'a 'ow I love tha' I 'ide. I live openly. 'N if people don't like it, if they seek t'deal wiv it wiv violence, well..." A flicker of something horrific wisped through Ron's expression. "I ain't eighteen, ain't nineteen no more, aye? --Th'rest though-"

Another gesture to his head. He would not use that word for it; wouldn't dignify it with its name. Not this evening. He'd not get so easy an answer out about it either though. That was the rub. This topic...It was a difficult shape in his mind; one he found putting words to a challenge, no matter how long he'd had to practice and how much he knew, now, about how his brain worked and didn't work.

"--Th'rest I don't wear like armour." A thought begat a frown. Rephrase. "Not tha' me sexuali'y's tha'...It ain't armour. I's...ahtside. Y'look 'ard enough f'long enough, y'll see it - much as I don't fink y'd clock me day t'day 'n fink Oo yeah, 'ee's not straight. Bu' th'rest...I can't do tha' wiv it. 'N tha's..."

Silence fell as Ron dredged his mind for the words he needed. To fill it, he lit cigarette number nine with the embers of number ten and took a drag which he blew towards the dribs and drabs of traffic whizzing by below them. Ten's butt, pinched out, was popped into the open lid of his baccy box, and an attempt was made to tease out what he wanted to convey in words.

"--Is it...discrimination...oppression-- I don't know if i's them when i's off family...off friends...Maybe th'bettah word's...reaction? I dunno, bu' wha'evah it is...Was...I learned off tha', 'n off th'world generally-- People like...me..."

A slight wince of frustration flickered across Ron's face, silence coming again as he struggled to catch hold of the whorl of thoughts he had round this specific topic. Dark eyes fell briefly closed as he breathed through a spike of frustration and then, looking down at the traffic, he tried again.

"--I may be wrong in wha' I learned...I 'ope I am, 'n th'world's brightah than th'180 me ma'm 'n bruvvahs did when I got sick...Bu' wha' I learned off them was tha' change-" Another gesture to his head. "-It brings fear off them close t'yah-"

YOU AIN'T MY FUCKIN' BRUVVAH!

A second wince - pain this time as the light in his eyes froze; as they stilled, fixed on the middle distance among the dribs and drabs of traffic. What Ron said next sounded like hard work to get out, like a growl through a dry throat.

"-Fear 'n worse."

He swallowed, stole another drag on number nine - held it in 'til he couldn't no more then breathed it out into the night sky. In the aftermath, when he spoke again, he sounded more like himself; pensive, tense, but himself.

"I learned it ain't f'acceptin'...I's like a wound tha' y'forced t'walk rahnd wiv like it ain't there b'cause God-for-fuckin'-bid someone y'don't want t'notice notices...'N I know tha's wrong-"

Eyes on Beth then. There was an almost pleading edge to Ron's voice.

"I know i's wrong b'cause I ain't wha' all'a them fink me c'ndition makes me - not me family, not th'public, not no fuckah...So me life's turned on unlearnin' all them fings I learned off them closest t'me, bu' as well..." Pleading became something closer to resignation. "I know...there ain't no Pride f'a sk-"

Tension. Everywhere.

Ron clenched his teeth, barely rescued his fag.

He would Not Use That Word. Not this evening.

"-F'me" he amended, that second's pique pulling back like the tide. "So tha' bit...Tha' bit I don't wear openly." Another drag off number nine; eight waiting in the wings.

"--N'me...I ain't prejudiced. I discriminate against them tha' does it t'me - don't care th'nature'a th'person. Come f'me b'cause'a 'oo I love, I'll break yah in 'alf. Come f'me b'cause'a 'ow I am, same goes. 'N if I witness it -- some twat in an alley kickin' ten bells aht a gay lad or a bi lad or girl; some twat 'arrasin' someone b'cause they're wired different--" A slow, disgusted head-shake. "They'll meet th'devil twice on their way dahn, once when they get there 'n once in Ron Kray."

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #45 - Showerhead]

"When you and Jungkook get each other off with a showerhead."

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: the cozy small town vibes we all love TCT for <3, Kookie being a sexy tattoo artist, he's a tired bean as is OC, a cozy night in with burgers from Seokjin's diner, Bam being the cutest dog, the next warnings are for smut: this is kinda a quickie, there's no specific roles just a married couple having some sexy time to let off some steam, they had a lil bit of a stressful day and relax this way, shower sex, making out, naked grinding, some grinding on his thigh, they use the showerhead on each other to make each other cum, Jungkook being wet and hot, sexy communication, dirty talk, praise, size & strength kink, squirting, giggly aftercare, this is the kinda sex you can only have with someone you know well and love dearly, they're so in love you guys :(, *shrivels up* the domestic comfort *implodes*

Wordcount: 5.3k

a/n: my explanation for this? i love this universe, i love this couple, i love their bond. enjoy besties 🧡

“Hey there.”

Seokjin lifts his head from the receipts he was sorting through. His eyes light up instantly, an adoring smile curls his lips.

“___! Yooo, you’re here”, he hollers and leaves his place behind the counter with stretched open arms.

You fall into the hug, letting out a little giggle because you’re really happy to see him.

“I am. Today was stressful as fuck though”, you say.

“Yeah? Busy day at the restaurant?”

“One could say that, yeah”, you say and break the hug, “how was your day?”

“Stressful as well. I don’t know why people were so hungry today, but it’s only just calmed down.”

You scan your eyes over the familiar diner. Seven of the twenty three tables are occupied. You shake your head in comradery knowledge and look back at Seokjin.

“I think it’s the weather. People like eating out when it’s cloudy.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Speaking of food, I’ve got your burgers in the back”, he says and turns to leave.

“You’re a fucking saviour, you know?”

“Tell me once I’m back”, he calls out and disappears in the kitchen.

He reappears again after a few seconds, carrying a paper bag with your order.

“Here you go. Two deluxe beef burgers with extra bacon for Kook and lots of sauce for you.”

“And two servings of chilli cheese fries.”

“Of course, with extra cheese because it’s you.”

“Dude, I seriously love you. You saved our evening. I feel too tired to cook and I know Kook’s gonna wanna lie down the moment he’s home.”

“Where is he? Still at the studio?”

“Yeah, till eight. He’s got a full back tattoo to finish. He’s been at it since nine.”

“Geez, whoever is getting the tattoo is either insane or has lost all feeling in their nerves ‘cause a full back tattoo for elven hours is fucking mental.”

“Right? Dude, when Kook did the snake on my shoulder blade?” you turn your shoulder to him, pointing at it even if currently your biker jacket is keeping it hidden.

“Yeah?”

“I cursed at him multiple times. Not ‘cause I wanted to, but ‘cause it happened on instinct. It hurt like a fucking bitch.”

Seokjin laughs, “I know how you feel. My back tattoo experience still haunts me.”

“Didn’t you curse at him too?”

“I think I might have even threatened his life at one point.”

You and he laugh.

“Totally understandable”, you joke.

“Yeah, ah funny”, Seokjin says and walks behind the counter again.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, it’s on the house.”

“I hate it when you do that. How much do I owe you?”

“It’s fine, dude. Just bring me some of those parmesan rind balls you’re serving at the restaurant and we’re even.”

You roll your eyes and place the correct amount of money on the counter.

“Good thing I worked here for years”, you say and turn your back to Seokjin to strut off.

“I should change the prices, seriously”, Seokjin jokes as he looks at you, reaching for the money you left.

You snicker, turning in the doorway, “see you at Tae’s and Hobi’s on Saturday?”

“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to DnD night all week. Namjoon keeps talking about how much fun being DM is. He says this session will be unlike any before.”

“He always says that and then they never disappoint.”

“Seriously”, Seokjin agrees, “and Jimin was here this morning and said that Yoongi will bring apple pie.”

“Seriously? Oh my god, mhhm”, you groan, “I’m so excited, dude.”

“Me too”, Seokjin says and lifts his hand for a wave, “drive safely, ___.”

“Thank you. You too, Seokjin”, you say and turn to leave.

You store your dinner in the safety compartment on your bike and put your helmet on. You fix your gloves and then finally sit down on your bike to drive off. The smell of warm concrete tickles your nose as you cruise through the familiar streets. The diner soon disappears behind you and Hoseok’s garage appears to your right. You slow down to see if you can spot him. You can. He is working outside. He lifts his head at the sound of your bike and stands up, lifting his hand to wave at you. You wave back at him, slowing down your bike because luckily for you, the lights turned red. You open your visor.

“Yoongi brings apple pie on Saturday!” you call out loudly over the rumbling of your bike and also to bridge the distance.

“Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” Hoseok calls back, making a funnel with his hands to be louder, “driving home?”

“Yeah! I got burgers at Jin’s!”

“Nice! Enjoy them!”

“I will!”

The lights turn green again.

“See you Saturday!” you yell happily and close your visor to drive off.

Hoseok gives you a wave with both of his hands, swaying his hips from side to side to really get his excitement across. You laugh in fondness, giving him a wave until a turn to your left, naturally forces both your hands back onto the handles so you could take it safely.

The denser inner town soon disappears behind you as the road takes you along the coast. You pass Jimin’s and Yoongi’s house on tonight’s route. The lights in the street facing rooms are turned off, but you can spot the garden lights being on. You sound your horn as you pass them, knowing that they will know that it was you greeting them. Then you speed up, leaning into it. The road allows you to do so safely and there is nothing better than feeling the warm night air on your skin. Today is a good day. Even if it was stressful, the small moments of familiarity and good friendship were already enough to make it a good day.

Bam waits for you by the garage door, containing his excitement by sneezing repeatedly and tippy-tapping with his hind legs.

“Hello there Bamie, how was your day?” you greet him in a squeaky voice.

Bam huffs out air, shaking his head.

“That’s good to hear. I had a stressful day, but I got burgers”, you say and walk off to the kitchen. Bam follows next to you, sniffling at the bag, “it’s not for you, you greedy boy”, you laugh, moving it higher so he can’t reach it anymore, “don’t worry, mommy’s gonna feed you right away”, you say and open the fridge, “are you hungry, baby?”

You and Jungkook started a new diet with Bam after consulting with your trusty vet. It consists of raw, fresh meats, vegetables, fish and eggs presented in a bowl which makes him work for the food so he gets mental stimulation out of it as well. He even gets some berries and the most delicious unsalted bone broth to wash it down with. Truly, your little doggy son eats like royalty with you. You swear that ever since you started his diet, his fur glowed more and his poops smell better.

Bam waits by your feet with his tail wagging excitedly, looking up at you with big eyes.

“Almost done, baby. Wow, you can’t even imagine how stressful today was. I had to run around so much, my feet hurt”, you say and pick up the filled bowl to carry it to Bam’s feeding station.

The Doberman follows you and sits down in perfect position instantly. Just like you and Jungkook have trained him.

“Good boy”, you praise him, “turn.”

Bam follows.

“Sit.”

Bam follows.

“Good boy. Wait.”

Bam follows, watching you put his food bowl into the mount. You straighten up. Bam looks up at you.

“Wait.”

He doesn’t move.

“Wait.”

He doesn’t move.

“Release.”

Bam finally moves and jumps up to begin eating his food. You give him a little pet on his back.

“Good boy. There we go, enjoy your food.”

You give him his space afterwards, leaving the kitchen to change into comfortable clothes and wash your hands. You are in the hallways leading to the stairs when Jungkook comes home.

“Sweetie! I’m home!”

“Hellooo”, you coo, jogging down the stairs and meeting Jungkook at the end of them. You stay on the last step, hooking your arms behind his head to pull him into a kiss. He has to tilt his head up for it, wrapping his arms around your waist, “mwuah”, you end the kiss, giving him a happy scrunch of your face.

He retorts it, hugging you.

“How was your day?”  he asks you.

“Stressful, but not bad. Yours?”

“Exhausting. My back’s killing me and my neck’s already dead.”

You slide your hand to his neck to massage it gently.

“I can imagine. Did you finish it?”

“Yeah, the madman actually sat through the entire tattoo.”

“That’s actually crazy.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook chuckles and lifts his head, resting his chin against your chest. He grins as he talks, “did you get the burgers?”

“Of course I did. They’re waiting for us in the kitchen.”

“I’m so hungry already.”

“Me too”, you say and break the hug by getting down from the last step, “wanna watch The Witcher as we eat?”

“Yes, that sounds like a plan”, Jungkook says as he jogs up the stairs to change into comfortable clothes and wash his hands.

You have the burgers and fries prepared on your coffee table when Jungkook comes back. Bam is on the sofa next to you, resting his head on his front paws as he enjoys his post dinner nap. Jungkook wakes him as he gets on his knees in front of him and greets him with kisses all over his face.

“Hello Bamie”, he coos in a squeaky voice, “did you have a good day? Daddy had a really long day. Oh Bamie, my baby.”

The Doberman accepts his dad’s kisses with a wagging tail. It makes a dull sound of impact each time it slaps the couch cushions.

“Mwuah”, Jungkook finishes his kisses with a smooch to Bam’s forehead and then stands up. He picks up his burger and plops down on the couch so Bam was between you and him. He stretches his legs out and lets his head plop against the cushions. Then he sighs, “that’s luxury, seriously.”

“Yeah”, you agree, “ready?”

“Yeah.”

You press play on the show and for the next twenty minutes, you enjoy your dinner as the show was running. You pause it once you are finished with your food so you could carry the dirty plates to the kitchen and start the dishwasher. You return with some chocolate drops for dessert.

“Choco snack?” you offer Jungkook.

“Uuh, yes thank you”, Jungkook says and scoops a good handful out of the bowl. Bam left the spot between you and him by now so he could instead scratch at his favourite scratching mat. The sounds of his playing fill the background as you press play on the show again. You rest on the couch in a way which enables Jungkook to lie down between your legs. You put the snack bowl on his stomach and begin massaging his shoulders.

“Mhm yeah, that’s premium”, he says, wiggling happily, “thankies.”

“Tell me if I hurt you”, you say and then no other words are exchanged between you and him as you enjoy the show. You snack, you cuddle, you massage his shoulders and you react to good scenes in the show. It’s truly the perfect evening.

After the episode finished, you stay on the couch to chat about your days. You and Jungkook are facing each other. He is sitting on the sofa cross-legged as he massages your feet because you complained about them hurting.

“By the way, I just remembered”, you say during a moment of nice silence.

“Yeah?”

“Seokjin told me that Jimin was at the diner today and that he told him that Yoongi will bring apple pie on Saturday.”

“This just made my entire night. Yoongi’s apple pie is the best apple pie ever. Sorry baby, yours is amazing too, but I gotta be honest.”

You laugh, “no, I agree. There is no better apple pie than Yoongi’s. And Jinnie said that Joon can’t shut up about how good this session will be.”

“He always says that and then it’s never a lie.”

“I said the same thing.”

You and Jungkook share in little chuckles.

Bam appears by your side, stubbing Jungkook’s knee.

“I think he needs to shit”, he says.

“Yeah, I think so too. His eyes are glassy.”

“Do you need to poop, baby?” Jungkook coos at Bam. The dog huffs out air and leaves the living room for the front door, “okay yeah he does. I’ll take him for a walk, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay here if you don’t mind. My feet are gonna shrivel up if I take another step today.”

Jungkook chuckles, “no worries. I need the movement either way”, he says and gets up. He kisses your forehead as he passes you, “it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Yeah, okay. If I’m not here when you return, I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay. See you later, sweetie.”

“See you, honey.”

Just like you told Jungkook, you are taking a shower when he returns. He knocks on the door.

“Come in!”

He enters the bathroom and locks the door behind him. He scans his eyes up and down your naked body, but doesn’t say anything raunchy about it.

“How was the walk?”

“Good. I feel human again”, Jungkook says and rolls his shoulders, “Bam’s in his crate already. He totally passed out after the walk. He did so much sniffing, I think it tired him out.”

“He’s so cute.”

“Yeah, he really is”, Jungkook sighs dreamily, "our son."

You chuckle fondly and guide the showerhead over your left arm, “do you wanna join me?”

“Uuh, yes I do”, he coos and begins undressing in little dance moves. It makes you laugh because he is such a dork. 

Now buttnaked, he grins cutely and steps into the shower. He leans in for a little kiss, but you attack him with water instead by turning the showerhead and covering his chest with it.

“Hey”, he laughs.

You snicker mischievously then begin guiding the showerhead over his body to wet him.

“Not cool. I wanted to kiss you”, he chuckles.

“Kisses come later. You’re sweaty.”

“Wow, so mean”, he laughs and turns his back to you so you can wet it as well.

You turn off the water afterwards, picking up his soap to squirt some into his hands.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome”, you say and switch out his soap for yours.

You and he soap yourselves up, going thoroughly to really make sure the day is washed off. You even soap up your cracks, feeling no shame in doing so. It was a little awkward in your beginning phase, because soaping up your intimate places is a very personal thing to do, but these days, you don’t think it’s embarrassing to do it in front of each other. In some weird way, it’s kind of nice to do it in front of each other. You are bonded for life and there are no other people you know as intimately as you know each other. Feeling comfortable in washing even the most personal places in front of each other just means that what you and he have is real and it’s home.

Jungkook takes on the job of washing the soap off your bodies. First you and then himself. He keeps the water running afterwards, guiding it over your body for now to warm you up.

“And now?” he asks.

“We could dry up and watch more Witcher or we could get a little sexy.”

“A little sexy?” Jungkook asks and glances at your tits, “like sexy sexy?”

“Yes, sexy sexy”, you snicker, nudging his chest, “doofus.”

“What? I gotta make sure, I don’t wanna be weird.”

“Cutie”, you say and take the showerhead from him to warm him for a change, “do you wanna be sexy sexy with me?”

“Yeah”, Jungkook nods his head, “yeah, I can be convinced.”

“You can?” you ask seductively.

“Mh-hm”, Jungkook hums and wiggles his brows.

You turn the water off and put the showerhead in its mount for now. You step closer to Jungkook and touch his chest.

“You can get your kisses now”, you tell him.

“Finally”, Jungkook says and grabs your butt with both his hands to pull your body close. He claims your lips in a kiss, purring happily.

“Mhhm”, you hum, burying your fingers in his hair as you get lost in his kisses.

You kiss, you touch, you grope and hug. You stumble, press each other against the tiles, giggle, kiss some more and turn each other on in the process. Most of your shared showers don’t end in sex, so tonight feels extra special. You felt like it. You had such a good day and Jungkook is such a cutie that you just wanted to at least shoot your shot. That Jungkook said yes was the sweetest cherry on top.

By now, Jungkook has you against the tiles with one knee between your legs so you can grind on it as you kiss. He is rolling his hips against you, finding sweet electricity on your stomach as his hard cock moves against it.

Jungkook breaks the kiss to nibble on your neck.

“I love it when you mark my thigh”, he rasps.

“I know”, you sigh. Your lips feel puffy and tender from kissing, “shit Kook, it feels so good.”

“Yeah, it does”, he agrees, squeezing your butt, “my goddess. Gotta love that ass.”

“You’re stupid”, you snicker and moan, “fuck, you feel good.”

“Mhm, yeah”, he sucks a spot of sensitivity to your neck, “so good.”

“Kiss me again”, you say and pull him into a kiss.

And so you do it again. You kiss, you touch, you grope and grind. You moan, sigh, shiver and pull each other closer. You stumble and move around, almost knock the soap bottles over and hit the showerhead hose with your elbow.

You break the kiss again. You are both out of breath and heated up. Jungkook looks at you with heavy eyes.

“Wanna do something fun?” you ask.

“More fun than this?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“Wanna get each other off with the showerhead?”

“Yes”, Jungkook furrows his brows, “fuck, your mind. You’ve got the sexiest ideas.”

“I know”, you snicker, “you first. I’ll make you cum”, you say and push him away from you gently.

“Okay”, Jungkook stumbles back, lifting his hands in defeat, “I’m not stopping you.”

You take the showerhead off its mount and turn the water on, checking the temperature with your hand. You lower it then turn it to Jungkook.

“Is that good for you?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Okay then, get ready.”

“I’m so ready”, Jungkook says and looks at his hard cock.

You place your palm on the upper side of his cockhead and use your thumb to hold it in place. You tilt it and guide the showerhead to his sensitive tip.

Jungkook gasps, taking a wobbly step closer while his cock throbs into the sensation.

“How’s that?” you ask him, lifting your eyes to meet his gaze. 

It is foggy in pleasure. His lids are lowered halfway.

“Good”, he whispers and parts his lips for a soft moan.

“You’re so pretty”, you speak quietly too. It feels right to do so.

“No, you are. Ah”, he furrows his brows, “there. Woah, ah”, and his eyes fall closed before his nose scrunches in pleasure. Another moan rolls off his tongue, his lips stay parted afterwards.

You look back at his cock. The water is hitting him right at his frenulum, reaching parts of his flushed tip as well. His thick vein is pulsating, moving his entire cock on your palm. His lower abs tense and tremble.

“Right there?” you ask, drawing circles.

“Yes, don’t stop. Keep, ah, please keep going.”

“Okay”, you say and try to keep the movements as they are right now. Slow circles with a minimal diameter so most of the water is focused on his sensitive frenulum. He says it’s where the pleasure goes especially deep. There and right on his tip. You don’t want to change the motion for the sake of finding out if his tip feels just as good however. Jungkook sounds so perfect right now. 

“This feels so good”, he moans, touching your shoulder just to run his hand down your arm. He lingers on your elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It does. It’s so hot, baby.”

“Yeah-ah”, he bites his lower lip and smiles the kind of smile he always does when the pleasure hits just right, “that’s wow, aha”, he laughs breathily and opens his eyes, looking down at his own cock. He follows the showerhead as you guide it over his cock, sliding his hand to the back of your neck.

“Fuck.”

“Good?” 

“Fuck, looking at it…” Jungkook closes his eyes and furrows his brows, “...yeah that’s gonna make me cum. Fuck….baby…”

“Can I try your tip? Just to see.” 

Jungkook nods his head. You guide the showerhead away from his frenulum to instead draw circles on his tip. His cock throbs. He lets out a soft gasp.

“Good?”

“Yeah”, he rasps and rolls his hips, “I liked the other spot more. Please.” 

“Mhm, that’s sexy”, you purr and guide the showerhead back to where you were before, “there?”

“Lower, ahnm it’s good just low- yes! Ah”, he moans loudly, throwing his head back, “there. That’s the fucking spot, holy shit.”

His cock pulsates and leaks. The water washes it away instantly, but the twitchy nature of his cock remains.

“You’re so sexy. Fuck, I’m going insane”, you rasp and feel tingles run all over your skin.

“Baby, you’re making me cum”, Jungkook gets out and squeaks in a moan, “a-ah”, he clears his throat, “sorry, voice cra-ah-ack. Ah fuck, ___ holy shit.” 

You snicker, “you’re cute”, you say and draw a little heart. And another one. And one more for good measures, “and sensitive.”

“Yeah I was close”, he says and scrunches his nose, “this is gonna feel so. So ah. So good”, Jungkook stutters and rolls his hips, “stay there. There. Baby, please.” 

“There?”

Jungkook moans loudly, scrunching his face.

“Yeah, right there”, you rasp, “you’re such a pretty boy, getting your pretty cock all clean and nice for me.”

“Fuck, oh fuck.”

“So pretty. You’re such a pretty boy with the prettiest cock.” 

“Now”, Jungkook gets out and moans, convulsing in his high. He spills all over his tummy and your hand, but the water washes it away instantly. He wobbles, finding support by holding your shoulder, “I was right, it feels so good”, he whines and reaches down to play with his own tip, “oh god, ____. Ah!”

“You’re so hot. So fucking hot”, you moan with him, feeling your own knees buckle. There are only a few things hotter than watching your husband orgasm. You could fucking do it for hours. It’s addictive, especially when he’s wet from a shower and his knees are wobbling like crazy. 

“Woah”, Jungkook gets out and slacks against you, dropping his head on your shoulder as his arms close around you. He audibly gulps repeatedly, nuzzling his nose into your skin. His cock is squished between your tummies, throbbing slowly. You hold the showerhead behind his back for now, letting the water hit the tiles.

“Liked it?” you ask him, tracing his spine.

He nods his head and exhales shakily, “holy fuck.”

You giggle, “you’re cute. I’m happy you liked it.”

“Yeah, I did. Seriously wow”, he exhales happily and lifts his head, giving you a goofy grin, “you’re the best ever. Thank you.”

You do a little curtsey, “you are very welcome.”

Jungkook laughs and gives your waist a little squeeze. His eyes lower playfully, he licks his lips. You feel your heart speed up and your pussy throb.

“Now give me the showerhead. It’s your turn”, he rasps and smirks.

You give it to him without hesitation, parting your legs so he can have access. You keep staring into his eyes, feeling yourself totally lose yourself in him. Jungkook gazes at you, eye fucking you so well that your breath is already shaky even without any sort of stimulation.

“Count to three for me”, he whispers.

“One.”

Jungkook slides his left hand to your hip.

“T-two.”

Jungkook leans down to place a kiss on the most sensitive spot of your neck.

“Three”, you sigh, closing your eyes in anticipation.

Warm water hits your pussy and stimulates your aching clit. You grip his strong upper arms, squeezing desperately.

“Jungkook….”

Jungkook purrs deeply, using his lips and teeth to play with your earlobe. He slides his left hand to the small of your back and tilts your hips with a gentle push, making it so your clit is more exposed to the stream of warm water.

The moan you let out bounces off the walls, but you find no shame in it. On the contrary, you allow another sound to slip, rolling your hips into the sensation.

“Is that nice, mhm?” Jungkook asks in a rasp and his voice tickling your ear.

“Yeah, nice”, you get out, gliding your hands to his pecs. Fuck, his skin is so wet and silky from the water. His muscles are twitching under your touch, his deep purr tickles your palm.

“You’re so sexy like this. Keep touching me, baby. Feel how strong I am, mhm?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, moaning when he tenses his pecs just for you.

Jungkook growls playfully and moves the showerhead closer. You twitch instinctively, feeling your knees shake.

“Wait. It feels weird like this”, you say. 

“Yeah? What do you need changed?”

“Don’t laugh, but I want it like this”, you say and sit down on the floor. You rest against the tiles and prop up your feet, parting your legs. 

“This is so hot”, Jungkook says and kneels down in front of you. He scoots close and gets comfortable with his legs crossed. You place your legs over his’, propping your feet up on the floor behind him. Like this, you have skin on skin contact and Jungkook is facing you head on. He leans in for a kiss, breaking it by gently nipping on your lower lip.

“You’re sexy”, he rasps and guides the showerhead to your pussy.

You jolt up, arching your back.

“Woah.”

“Good?” 

“Can you, ah, use your fingers to spread me?”

Jungkook nods his head and uses his left hand to part your folds for the water. Trembles shake your legs, your hips roll into the sensation.

“Fuck yes, ah like this.”

“This is so hot. I love this”, Jungkook rasps and switches his gaze to your pussy. He licks his lips, wiggling his hips in desperation. You are so spread for him and the water takes such pretty paths along your pussy. He makes sure to bundle the stream onto your clit area. You already look so swollen, especially now that he is keeping you spread, “you look so sensitive, baby.”

“Your thigh”, you mewl and it’s enough for Jungkook to understand that grinding on his meaty thigh brought you just as close as your stomach did him.

“Fuck, so hot”, he growls and spreads your pussy more. He draws lines up and down your clit, listening for your reaction. 

“Jungkook, baby”, you moan, rolling your head back.

Thud.

It falls against the tiles. Jungkook looks at your face. Your eyes are closed, a droopy smirk curls your lips.

“Does it feels good what I do?” he asks in a soft spoken voice. 

You nod your head.

“Should we try circles too?”

You nod your head again.

Jungkook changes the lines for circles, sending trembles through your legs. 

“It’s that. Ahng”, you scratch your nails over the tiled floor before grabbing your own thighs for support, “that. It’s, it’s that. Ah, fuuck….” you open your legs further, panting heavily as your back arches off the wall.

“Fuck, this is hot. I’m going insane”, Jungkook confesses in a raspy voice and his darkened eyes flitting back to your pussy. 

“Don’t stop please. This feels so good.”

“I won’t, baby”, he promises you and leans in for a kiss. He manages to place one on your jawline, ending it with a little suck. 

“Ah, mhm, ah”, you let out and writhe, “it’s soon.” 

“Yeah? So hot. My pretty girl with her pretty pussy. It’s so sexy how she’s getting all wet for me.”

“Keep talking, holy fuck.”

“Mhm, my pretty girl. You’ve got the prettiest pussy, baby”, Jungkook rasps and swirls the showerhead just how you need it, “my prett-”

“Now!” you fall into his words as your high hits you. Sit up in reaction, grabbing Jungkook’s arm for support as the only sound leaving you is a throaty “ngn.” 

“Baby”, Jungkook moans with you, staring at your throbbing pussy obsessively. She is pulsating so much.

“Holy fuck, this is actually making me squirt. Ohgod. Urgh”, you moan and groan, convulsing uncontrollably as the intense stimulation of the water makes you squirt. 

“Holy fuck, baby. Holy fuck”, Jungkook growls, gawking obsessively. The water washes any kind of proof away instantly, but the way you grab him and shake, is enough to let him know that you weren’t bluffing. The showerhead is making you fucking squirt all over the shower floor and it’s Jungkook’s doing. 

“You’re a fucking goddess. Holy shit, I’m going insane”, Jungkook moans and helps you ride it out until you push away the showerhead on your own.

You drop against the wall, letting your head tangle tiredly.

“No more. Holy fuck”, you croak and writhe, “wow…” 

Jungkook, who is still keeping you spread with his left hand, uses his pointer finger to rub your clit. He gets as far as to lightly brush his the pad of his finger over it and then you already flinch in overstimulation. Your legs fall closed as best as possible, your eyes open and beg him to stop.

“Seriously don’t. I’m so-” you twitch and flinch as Jungkook does it again. 

As gently as possible. But you are way too overstimulated, so it felt as if he was using his entire force.

“Kook”, you both moan and complain, “stop it, I’m too sensitive”, you say in a laugh, reaching between your legs to pull his hand away.

Jungkook laughs and lets you. He holds your waist instead, closing in so he could claim your lips in a smiley kiss. 

You kiss him back, but soon push him away gently. You slap his chest with both hands, barely using strength for it.

“You’re fucking awful. My clit’s sensitive”, you chuckle.

“Sorry, it was too tempting not to”, he snickers, “you know I love it when you’re like this.” 

“I know. Too much unfortunately. One day I’ll accidentally kick you ‘cause you activated some sort of reflex. Seriously.”

Jungkook laughs. You laugh. You fall into a giggly kiss again, ending it with a mutual “mhm” and a stub with your noses. 

You rest your forehead together, keeping your eyes closed.

“So this was amazing”, he whispers 

“Yeah, it was. Exactly what I needed tonight.”

“Definitely. I feel so good. You?”

“Me too, yeah. Although, two things.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook is already snickering.

“My tailbone is starting to hurt and I’m getting sleepy.”

He chuckles and pecks your lips.

“Let’s actually dry ourselves, do our routines and then go to bed?” he suggests.

“Sounds like a deal. Snuggles later?”

“Snuggles definitely later. Oh hell yeah, you can bet on it”, he says, making you giggle.

“You’re cute. Now help me up, I’m ruined, seriously.”

Jungkook laughs, “hold onto me. Your strong hubby will help you.”

“Wow, I married the strongest person ever. My hero”, you joke, looking into Jungkook’s sparkly eyes as you and he once again share in giggles and laughter. 

[staratie]

Do you mind writing a Zoro touch expansion headcanon?

touch starved zoro

i don’t mind! i hope you enjoy it (:

sfw-ish. some angst, sensual touching, a little spice at the end but nothing too graphic wc: 703 summary: luffy and usopp couldn’t help but playfully make fun of zoro after they overheard his interaction with you at the harbor. extra info: zoro x f!reader, you are a waitress with sword fighting skills.

“I missed you...” Luffy laughed jokingly, imitating Zoro’s tone. “I wish you went with us soooo badly ’cause we were gone for soooo long.”

“Y’know that’s not how it went.” Usopp corrected. “You forgot the big heart eyes he had when we were at the harbor. Zoro’s in looovvve.”

Zoro rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “You two are overdoing it.” He neither denied or agreed to Usopp’s last statement, so that left the two male Straw Hat Pirates wondering exactly how he felt about you.

“So correct them!” Nami exclaimed. “They’ve been doing nothing but this for the past hour.” She rolled her eyes and slumped against her chair.

“He doesn’t owe any of us an explanation, my friends.” Sanji replied. He and Zoro exchanged nods. “Now, let’s order from this restaurant and act like adults for the sake of our visit.”

“Welcome to—” the waitress started.

“You’re new.” Zoro observed, giving her a judging stare.

“Um. Yes…how can I serve you all today?” She asked quietly.

“Does a waitress that carries a sword still work here?” Sanji inquired.

“Yeah! And she likes to hang out at the harbor?” Usopp added.

“Stop interrogating her.” Nami defended. “We’ll take one of everything.”

The poor thing nodded her head and hurried away from their table. Nami gave Sanji and Zorro her typical “what the hell” stare. Usopp shrugged his shoulders when he wasn’t acknowledged. At least he wasn’t in trouble.

- - -

Dinner was delicious. The Straw Hats had full stomachs as they walked back to their ship. Zoro walked slowly, hoping to find a glimpse of you in the crowd.

“Damn it.” He murmured quietly.

“What?” Luffy asked curiously.

“She had today off.”

“So?”

“We agreed to meet at the fountain. And I missed it.” Zoro replied, irritated at his forgetfulness.

“And…?” Luffy motioned for him to continue.

“I told her I wanted her to join the crew.”

“Well, she is very skilled. Probably the world’s second greatest swordswoman.” Luffy felt tension between him and his first mate. He had never seen Zoro like this. “Why did she say no?”

“Because she didn’t want to.” Zoro replied defensively. He clutched the hilt of his katana tightly.

“Want to? Or couldn’t?” Luffy suggested.

Zoro pushed him aside and trudged to the Go Merry. He went to his cabin, shut the door, and grumbled a string of negative self talk. When he turned around, he was surprised to see you on his bed.

“You’re here?” He whispered. You playfully nodded your head, hopped off, and walked to him, gently taking his hands in yours.

“Yes, Zoro, I am.” You replied, looking into his eyes.

“Why?” He asked, leaning his forehead on yours. You slowly kissed his lips, making him stiffen. It was gentle, but sent intense feelings of desire in him. He crushed his lips against yours and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you closer. You led him to his bed, giving him the choice of how to handle the situation. He plopped you on the mattress and hovered over you, meeting your intense gaze. “Why?” He asked again.

“Because, Zoro,” you said, dancing your fingers down his face. They went down his cheeks, neck, chest, and stopped in front his pants. “I want to give you a proper goodbye.”

“So it is a no…” he closed his eyes as he felt you run your fingers up and down his bulge.

“But not yet.” You added, slowly removing his pants down. “Not tonight.”

Zoro grabbed your wrists and held them on the sides of your face. He gave out an animalistic growl and started to kiss the side of your neck, slowly going down until he reached the neckline of your top.

“You’re the captain tonight.” You whispered as he took off your shirt. You sat up and sighed as he greedily kissed you and brought his hands under your skirt to rub you right there, right where it felt so good.

You positioned yourself where he can easily slide in, and he does.

“Would a captain really do this?” He asked hoarsely, readying to enter. You closed your eyes and let him take you.

“The one in this cabin does.”

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #23 and 24 apology and imperfect

Two prompts today because I could not write anything yesterday.

White Pony Tattoo - Part Four (apology and imperfect)

One and a half day later, John once again found himself in front of White Pony Tattoo. He was brimmig with anticipation.

John had been able to swap today’s shift at the clinic to follow Sherlock’s order to be here at 2 PM sharp. John had been extra careful to arrive in time, taking an early bus and then loitering the spare seventeen minutes in the vicinity, looking at shop windows that did not really interest him.

Somehow, John did not want to come across as eager as he actually was to attend his appointment with Sherlock and would not like to be seen oscillating on the pavement before the front door. Although - thinking about this - it would likely be futile anyway trying to hide something from Sherlock’s uncanny habit of x-raying people with his colour changing eyes, of seeing right into John’s brain.

John had been wondering how Sherlock had known (deduced as the mesmerizing tattooist had called it) about the cover-up he had been about to request. John also was still a bit annoyed about Sherlock calling the desired design of an army soldier in full combat gear boring. When John had served in the army, nothing had been boring and he fondly remembered his time in the RAMC whenever he looked at photographs taken at this time.

++++

“I knew you’d come back.” Sherlock stood behind the counter, waiting in a relaxed posture.

Sherlock said it in a cool voice, matter-of-factly, not in a know-it-all or haughty diction. Yet, it rankled John. Feeling transparent.

“I actually think you owe me an apology.” John blurted.

“Do you now. Interesting. What for?” Sherlock stepped around the counter.

“An army soldier in combat is not boring.” There, I’ve said it, John thought. It felt good.

Sherlock raised a quizzical eye brow that reminded John of a parent chiding their child for uttering an unreasonable wish and it irked him even more.

“I don’t deal in apologies, John. Even if there had been something I should have apologized for, I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t like unapologetic people.” Mary was anapologetic, too.

Sherlock shrugged, totally uncaring about John’s confrontational stance. “Well, it was you who returned here, apparently about to accept my offer of tattooing a rising phoenix on your arm.” Sherlock pointed his index finger at the shop’s sign where the demands no arguing and no boring designs had been written.

“You have to accept the whole package which includes me, obviously. If you can’t deal with it, you may leave any time. It’s your decision.”

Sherlock leant his back casually against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest which showed off today’s bespoke dress shirt he wore. Its classy dove grey colour made Sherlock’s eyes gleam like multifaceted gemstones.

Of course, John did not want to leave which Sherlock must already know and since there was no other way, John swallowed the wave of recalcitrant pride that washed over him.

“Yes, okay, I accept.” John couldn’t avoid a tiny bit of teeth-gnashing, havinf to give in like this. Fuck you he mouthed under his breath.

“No, maybe later.” Sherlock deadpanned.

John’s face turned beet-red. As so often when felt cornered and embarrassed about something avoidable he had done, John attacked.

“I didn’t say that out loud now, did I?” But I feel tempted right now, dammit, John thought, hoping that his face would not give this away, as well. If it did, Sherlock mercifully did not mention it.

“No,” Sherlock said instead, chuckling, “but I can lip-read fuck you easily enough.”

Oh great, mind-reader and lip-reader. “Is there nothing I can hide from you?”

“Little. But don’t mind, practically everybody can’t.”

“That’s not a solace at all.”

“Come on, take a seat,” Sherlock motioned to a small coffee table with two armchairs, “let’s talk about your tattoo. Can I offer you some tea?”

Sitting down with a huff, John nodded. “With pleasure.”

Sherlock vanished behind the purple curtain and returned with a tea tray, laden with an expensive-looking porcelain tea set and a small plate with fresh scones. John’s mood immediately brightened upon the delicacies.

“Oh, this looks delicious. Thank you.” John took one scone.

“You have to thank Mrs Hudson, the landlady. She prepared all of this.”

Sherlock started to pour the tea and John was struck by the realization that Sherlock had to be of upper-class origin given the way he dressed, spoke and handled the tea. Transfixed, John watched Sherlock’s hands moving, like performing a dance of their own. There was a silver ring on every finger of Sherlock’s right hand. John identified a tattoo gun, a violin and one ring was made of tiny human skulls, like beads on a string.

Odd, how such a posh boy became a tattoo artist. Even a very famous one.

Taking a bite, John stated. “You’re doing great as an artist. I saw some of your works on the internet, lots of famous people that you have inked.”

“Yes, well, I don’t care about their fame. I’m interested in creating the perfect tattoo for my clients, ones that express what they feel or care about. Who they are. An image of their inner self, captured in ink on their outer skin, forever.”

John hummed. “This is very poetic!”

“Yes, yes! Excatly, John!” Sherlock jumped up and paced the room, gesticulating wildly.

“This is what I do! My ink is art, the poetry of lines, the flowing rhymes of colour, a whole story in shades of black. Everybody who is half-way talented can learn the perfect tattooing technique. But without the right design, without the firm connection to my client’s history and personality, or if you believe in the concept of a soul, then any tattoo will always be imperfect. Do you understand?”

“Yes, indeed, I do!” John exclaimed excitedly. “When I was performing surgery, of course, it was about saving lives and limbs.  But I always strived for more. I wanted them to heal perfectly. Like you said, everyone can learn to do sutures that hold the skin together. But sutures that don’t leave scars are very difficult. The desire to achieve perfection is not alien to me.”

Sherlock had calmed down enough to sit down.

“And this is why I rejected the soldier design your wanted. I never said that a soldier in army gear is boring per se, but it would be boring on your skin because you are so much more than this. You’ve fought in the army, saved lives, you’ve survived being shot and nearly dying from the infection. Therefore, the perfect design for you is the phoenix rising from the flames. You have been reborn in the blazing heat of Ahghanistan. Or was it Iraq?”

The sudden question startled John. “Aghanistan.” He answered automatically. “But please, Sherlock, allow me one thing, one question.”

“Which is?”

“How the everlasting fuck have you know, erm, deduced all of this about me?”

Sherlock laughed, full of delight.

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk  @raina-at

tagging some more @ghostofnuggetspast @friday411 @bs2sjh @weeesi @br-nz

tagging some more again @keirgreeneyes @jrow @thegildedbee @thalialunacy @gaylilsherlock

[mimi-is-so-horny]

this weekend was almost blurry. i think the heatwave (and me feeling foggy and tired all the time when it's hot, owing to my mountain-village upbringing) did not help. still, i can't complain.

last Tuesday, Sir visited me to fuck me. i love it when He fucks me on my bed. I have kept Anna's favourite sheets - they're very pretty and feel very luxurious, indeed. He fucked my pussy. He held my jaw so tightly He bruised a small spot. fucked my mouth with His fingers - the AC that is constantly on makes my lips dry, so it was easy for a tear to happen. i loved waking up extra early on Wednesday to do my makeup for work and having to cover up His use. i felt so young.

He bruised my cervix. this is so special, because when pain comes from the skin (spanking, caning), it's different; the pain comes from the outside. your suit. but when you are fucked rough in the cunt or the ass - the pain comes from the inside. so, i had Him in me for days. how many people can say they've been used so well? not many. i'm so lucky. He cuddled me in His clothes while i was totally naked. He had printed some photos of me on His home printer - screen captures from my videos so far. i felt like a schoolgirl.

"see how you look here? here? this one? next time you shouldn't hide your face like that." "next time, keep your eyes open when you're in pain - like here, in this photo." "see how you hold your stomach here? you hide. no. don't do that."

i nodded attentively each time. i was dripping.

i don't like porn because it's so foreign to my experience. the actresses are so proudly eager performing for the camera. i am eager, and i am desperately in need to serve most of the time; but i'm also ashamed of it. i started thinking of it as performing a function, and things got more matter-of-factly and easy. but, it's not like you can serve winking at the camera, right? i want to be a slave. i want to be useful. i want to be marked. but i am also becoming more quiet in the process. i think that accepting some stuff has made it easier for me to stop doing drugs, trying to be on a constant caloric deficit, tapping my fingers impatiently in the elevator, drinking... a lot. denying i wanted my abuser dead, then denied i missed him when he miraculously died in a car accident. admitting i want love, even if i don't know if it is like, a real thing. technically, i'm healthier, and will probably live longer (maybe). i could never imagine allowing myself to live past a certain point. now, i do.

throughout the next few days i felt my cunt... dry. i was worried. why are you denying your nature? fuck. thankfully a conversation with a special someone here made me wet just in time for Friday.

Friday afternoon, Sir picked me up from home. drove me to the empty parking lot He likes and i gave Him a blowjob after being ordered to take my top off. His cum tasted delicious this time, and i told Him. i swallowed and let Him fix His zipper. kept my top off (i think some men my age noticed, but Sir's car is kinda high and the seats deep. so, i don't feel visible, and He is very relaxed about it. in any case, it made me feel cheap and when i told Him, He chuckled).

Anna had already arrived at His place. we sat in the family room with the large TV and we watched both my most recent caning and my painal sessions. Sir and Anna on the sofa - i was seated by Anna's feet. Anna was moved to tears, as she found them both beautiful; she looked like she was watching a horror film. scared. i saw her eyes watching me get ass fucked and caned. it was revulsion, fear. i don't think she's a painslut. she thanked me for letting Sir explore that with me, and i deflected: i just do what i want. what i want is His. did you ever thank your toys after playing with them, Anna? i don't think so.

Sir was so sweet. He carried me to the bathroom to let me pee. He wiped my cunt clean. He fucked my pussy like He really needed it - He didn't come for a long time so it left me feeling sore. Anna worshipped my tits and thanked me for letting Sir "take it out on me". i kissed her hands and told her it was my pleasure and my pleasure is my purpose. there is no trade-off, as Sir respects consent very much. i have just accepted Him. just me and all of my cunt.

Anna and Sir left to dine out, leaving me home alone. i ate, brushed my teeth, read a little. when they came back, they used my mouth on the sofa. first Anna - she leaked all over my chin and i thanked her. Sir said one orgasm was enough for her. His turn: He ordered me to keep His balls in my mouth for as long as i could. fuck. Sir is big. He's not too long, but He's really thick. and His balls are bigger than my ex's. balls are so weird - soft and lumpy, but not lumpy like some tits. i tried to keep them in and my effort was lousy - but i was so tired. He did the most humiliating thing: He pumped on my tongue. it felt so gross, like cheating. but i also didn't care. i swallowed.

i kneeled and let my nose touch the floor to thank them for their cum, yet no words came out and my eyelids felt heavy. i felt tired enough to sleep on the floor and Sir gave me two light slaps to get up and sleep in my bed. He tucked me in and turned on the AC. He kisses my hand. i think i chuckled but i was quickly asleep.

Saturday morning was much less passive. i woke up determined to make up for last night. i'd beg to get my ass fucked. Sir fucked my pussy first, then my ass. He came in my ass - it felt so intrusive. i told Him, chuckling.

"repeat what you said."

"it feels intrusive... why cum there?"

"is this yellow, honey? what colour is it?"

"no, no. i don't mind it. I just don't see the point."

"you don't *mind* it, but do you feel good? does it feel good, Mimi?"

Pause.

my denied cunt looks at me, its lips open.

"it doesn't feel good, Sir."

"great."

Anna chimed in. she's not supposed to cum till Monday and she's not happy.

"it's not supposed to feel good. fucking whore. whore", she pouts.

i nodded. Sir looks serious. He's regretting going too far. He looks a bit frozen. regretful. fuck.

"Sir. permission to hug your knees, Sir?"

He nodded. i hugged His knees and nuzzled into His thigh. He wore jeans and i only wore my heels. i'm so naked, i wish He could feel my nipples brush on Him.

"it doesn't feel good, Sir. but i feel great about it. my stomach tells me when things aren't good, because it feels tight down there. like when you slapped me too hard in May, remember?"

He nodded.

"but i told you. right?"

He nodded.

"i'd love more of your cum in my asshole, Sir."

He hugged me. He ordered Anna to cuddle me till He finished with some work.

Anna kept His cum in with a butt plug, and cupped my neck, and kissed my tits. we hugged and cuddled for an hour.

Anna pumped my cunt. Sir took pictures and said it looked cute but almost fake. i loved the result so much i ordered a pussy pump - i hope it arrives soon. my clit was very neglected and Sir wanted me to edge with an ice cube - but Anna, of all people, talked Him out of it. throbby clit, leaky cunt. cunt wiped by Anna; Mimi is humiliated.

Sir only fucked Anna later that day, and asked me (very kindly) to lick and swallow His cum off her pussy. i kissed her pussy and did it. she mocked me for kissing her pussy to take Sir's gift, but i told her good whores are kind and don't make a mess. good whores are kind and don't make a mess. good whores are kind and don't make a mess. hypnotic.

Anna is also trying to experiment with body writing, so i went to bed looking extra special. she went to a very posh school so of course - the writing was in French.

she wrote "son dieu en debasement" ("her god in debasement") over my ass on my lower back, an arrow pointing towards my ass crack. she wrote that because we had a long discussion about what i consider my purpose in use to be (anal use, throat use, denial, body modifications, etc). she concluded that while women listen to their pussies for what they want, i as a bottom cunt listen to something far more degrading: my asshole. i just lowered my head and said "yes" quietly to most stuff she said. our whole discussion was her enthusiastically suggesting things about me and me just adding a little or saying yes. childlike.

an arrow pointing to the edge of my cunt slit and "putain fermée" written on my lower stomach (means "locked whore").

she wanted to write on my tits, too - but Sir didn't let her. Sir listened a bit (He was busy reading something) and then got up to see what Anna was about to write, indicating where the arrow should end right above my slit. to be accurate but also "elegant". like i'm an object.

Sunday was beautiful.

i slept in, feeling lazy. it was my denied cunt that properly woke me up. i throbbed at the idea of writing about one of my fantasies. my fingers are too slow to get me close to ruin, but they have always been unreliable. i bumped into Sir on my way to use the bathroom. He watched me pee and lightly pinched my nipples: He politely asked me to brush my teeth. i said yes - i've probably never gotten my teeth brushed for me before. it felt sweet, especially as He gave me a kiss on the cheek. He let me kiss His knuckles.

i had breakfast and did some chores. Sir let me know He had ordered food from a proper restaurant for us today; He wants me to explore more refined cuisine or whatever. of course He ordered for me. Dijon and cognac tender-charred slices with sweet potatoes. He ran His hand up and down my back while i ate - He can be so mom-like sometimes. i loved the food but i was too distracted by my cunt to thank Him. He told me not to talk, and helped me lie down to use the pussy pump on me again. i welcomed it - i was beyond passive. i was melting and so, so happy. He really pushed my cunt this time. i've seen it a bit like this before but its folds were brought out in a way that made it look very new.

ages later (or at least my cunt says it was a decade later) i was led outside to be pissed on. i was laid on my back, closed my eyes, opened my mouth. Anna pissed right above my head. Sir sprayed me well. i could taste their sweet lemonade cocktails in their urine.

i feel so happy. warm, happy. cherished and blessed and warm. i've been sleeping more peacefully this past month. i've stopped constantly wanting to drink, or smoking as much as i used to. i feel more heard than when i sat for PhD vacancies' final-round interviews.

and my cunt is so wet all the time. thank You, Sir.

bises,

Mimi.

[substituted-shinigami]

Learning to Breathe

(aka Please Remember To Put On Your Oxygen Mask Before Assisting Others)

Characters: Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, and some Fourth Division OCs, (RenRuki)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, some Angst, some Humor, Family

Rated: T (for mentions of medical tools such as needles and depictions of anxiety, but nothing is graphic or even really overly described. This story is more about the emotions than the medical drama)

Story Summary: Turns out purple eyes and short stature aren’t the only things that run in Hisana’s family, illness does as well. As Rukia and Renji try to help each other navigate through this new storm in their lives, will they remember to take time to breathe? (Rukia gets the same disease that killed Hisana (Bloodlines AU), Post TYBW, Post renruki engagement)

Click the link to read below or click here to read the story on AO3!

(7/7)

Epilogue: Safe At Last

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Summary: Attention Passengers, we have now (somehow) managed to arrive safely at our destination. Thank you for flying Stress Soul Society Airlines, your number one, and only, choice in airplane travel! We hope one day you will fly with us again! (An epilogue in which Rukia and Renji finally get their sandwiches. Oh, and they work things out with Byakuya too.)

“Now the real question is… how in the world do we handle my brother?” Rukia began around a huge mouthful of egg sandwich. In true chaotic style, when ordering her lunch, Rukia chose not to go with one of the “pre-picked” or “highly suggested” options from the bar’s menu, and instead went fully custom, simply picking out several ingredients that she liked, in this case, hard boiled eggs, cucumbers, ham, and cheese, and then just had them slapped together between two slices of interesting sounding bread, in this case ciabatta. (She tried to get two different kinds of bread too, but they wouldn’t let her.) However, while the flavors were good overall, it turned out kind of dry. She reached for a mayo packet. “He keeps pushing you so hard on this, and is convinced it is the correct way. I understand he’s grieving and trying to be supportive, but pushing his feelings onto you doesn’t help either of you!” Rukia snapped, squeezing the mayo packet onto her sandwich with a lot more force than was probably necessary.

Renji licked the sauce from his chicken bacon ranch sandwich off of his fingers, it was on a sesame seed bun and had honey mustard and extra bacon added, and thought for a moment.

“I think I have an idea for how to handle that actually…” he replied as he grabbed a french fry and dunked it into the ketchup. Rukia raised an eyebrow at him.

__________________________________

Later that evening, there was a knock on Kuchiki Byakuya’s home office door.

“Enter,” he said curtly without looking up. The door slid open, and Rukia and Renji were both bowing together in the entryway, “Come in. To what do I owe this visit?”

“Niisama, we require your assistance!” Rukia said as they entered the room. Byakuya’s head shot up.

“What is it? Is something amiss?” he asked quickly, his brows furrowing.

“No, nothing like that, Niisama,” she began, “But as you know, I’m in training for the captain’s exam. However, due to my current illness, some may see me as unfit to lead, and wish to dismiss me.”

“That’s ridiculous, even with the illness you are more than capable. The late Captain Ukitake served as a captain for hundreds of years with an illness,” Byakuya dismissed, as he went back to signing his paperwork. Rukia took a deep breath and let it out again.

“Be that as it may,” she stated slowly and deliberately, “it is still a concern. So in order to prove them wrong, I would like to be extra prepared for the exam. Therefore,” Rukia took another deep breath, “I would like you to train me, Niisama.” Byakuya paused in his writing, and gave his sister a pointed look.

“What about my venerable vice captain, Abarai Renji?” Byakuya asked dryly and a little suspiciously, “Has he not mastered bankai? Is he not capable?”

“Renji is very capable!” Rukia snapped defensively.

“Buuuut, I’m not a captain…captain,” Renji said, trying to get the bickering siblings back on track, “And as much as I would like to help, you would be more suited for the job. Plus, unfortunately, I’m going to be pretty busy.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes at his second, "And why, pray tell, is that?”

“U-Um…well,” Renji stammered, before finding his voice again, “because of all our new recruits, of course, sir! Now that the reconstruction is well underway, we are finally building up the Sixth Division again, and I’ve barely had a chance to meet any of them!”

“So? You do not need to have a personal interaction with every one of your underlings.”

“He does if he’s going to be training them,” Rukia piped in, now that she had cooled down a little. Byakuya sniffed at that.

“We have other people who can do that.”

“Oh yeah?" Rukia asked, cocking an eyebrow, "And how’s that been going for you?” Byakuya pursed his lips and frowned. Rukia continued, “Besides, it’s not just the recruits he needs to socialize with, it’s people from the other squads too. During this time of reconstruction, it's important to keep up relations between squads, and Renji is very suited to do this.” Rukia didn’t say that Byakuya wasn’t very suited to do this. She didn’t have to.

“Perhaps,” Byakuya relented, “However, if Vice Captain Abarai is running around doing all of these tasks, then how will he, Renji, also be able to help you out as well?”

“Ah! But you see, that actually works in our favor, Niisama!” Rukia started excitedly, “After all, if I’m seen getting ready for the captain’s exam, but call on Renji for every little thing, then they may get the impression that I do not have the fortitude to be a captain. Therefore it is imperative that Renji helps me out less, so that way I can prove those who would vote against me wrong!” She finished triumphantly.

“Perhaps…” Byakuya said again more slowly, “However, what happens if you require his assistance, and he’s not there? What happens when you feel faint? If you fall, and cannot send out a hell butterfly?”

“We both have soul pagers, Niisama, I can always text him if I really need something,” Rukia stated matter-of-factly. Byakuya looked down as he neatly folded his hands on his desk. He sighed.

“I can see that this matter is very important to you…however, please keep in mind that you may not have as much time as you may think. Do you not wish to spend it together rather than chasing an uncertain future which may be devoid of each other?”

“We do not yet know the future, Niisama," Rukia said kindly, "And whatever it might be, we will be doing it together. But we don’t have to be physically together all the time in order to do that. And besides, as important as we are to each other, there are a lot of other people who are important to us too. Ichigo, Orihime, Chad, Ishida, our divisions, the other vice captains, and you, Niisama, you are all important to us, and we want to spend time with all of you as well. That way, if anything were to happen, none of us will have any regrets.”

Byakuya was quiet for a moment before finally nodding, “I understand. I wish…I too wish to spend time with you...Rukia.” She smiled at him.

“As do I, Niisama, as do I.”

“It is settled then. I will train you, and Abarai will return to his odious task of socializing both within and without the Sixth Division, unless you truly find yourself unable to be without his personage. Is there anything else?”

“Um… Nope. That’s pretty much it,” Rukia shrugged.

“Good. You may take your leave then,” Byakuya finished, and went right back to work as if he hadn’t just had an emotionally trying experience. Rukia and Renji blinked, and turned to leave, when he piped up one more time, “Oh. One more thing.”

“Yes, Niisama?” Rukia asked, as they turned back around.

“If…If you ever need to go to the Fourth Division, for appointments or treatments, and Abarai is not available…and you need someone familiar to go with you…I can go if my schedule allows it…” Rukia's eyes opened wide.

“Oh! You don’t have to do that Niisama! I know how you feel about that section of the Fourth after…well…”

“Yes, however…” Byakuya began, as he put down his pen again, “As you said, we do not yet know the future…so perhaps it will be different this time…”

“Yes…Yes! Thank you, Niisama!” Rukia half coughed, half sobbed, “N-Niisama?”

“Yes?”

“May I…hug you?”

Byakuya blinked, “Oh…I suppose…” He stood up. Rukia briskly walked over and wrapped her arms around him. Byakuya patted her back awkwardly. Renji, trying to remain professional, barely kept a smile off of his face. Byakuya, also trying to remain professional, barely kept from glaring at him.

Eventually, Rukia stepped back, wiping her eyes. Renji, as if trying to clear the air, coughed and said, “You know, we can also all do fun activities together too! Like go see a play at the theater or something.” At that, Byakuya's face visibly brightened.

“Ah! Yes! I just remembered. They are doing a rendition of Kanjinchō at the kabuki theater by the Fourth Division next Thursday. Do you wish to go, Rukia?”

“Oh? Well, yes! Thank you, Niisama!” Rukia nodded vigorously, still wiping her eyes.

“I suppose you can also come, Abarai Renji,” Byakuya said with a wave of his hand. Renji’s eyebrow twitched.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Although,” Byakuya thought aloud, “the play does occur just after dinner. Therefore, we may want to acquire our evening meal at a restaurant nearby in order to not be tardy.”

“Oh! Well in that case, Niisama,” Rukia began, as she shared a mischievous smile with her fiance, “we do know of this really great sandwich shop…”

Byakuya looked between the grinning pair with growing trepidation, "I'm sorry… A what?!?"

[paldean-ranger-brandy]

📀

Send me a 📀 for a recent(ish) memory from my muse

“Ahem, excuse me, I need to speak with one, ah, ‘tree mommy,’ please?” A woman dressed head-to-toe in the brightest orange Brandy had ever seen leaned over the desk Brandy had set herself up at. Brandy threw a pencil at her.

“Fuck outta here Mark, I’m on lunch,” Brandy said to the woman who served as Tagtree Thicket’s operator, and whose name was definitely ‘Maryk’ and not ‘Mark’. 

“Wha- ow! Meanie! This is workplace harassment.” Maryk flinched as the pencil hit her, accidentally knocking it into her hair where it immediately got stuck in her dark curls. “Oooooo, now it’s all stuckies. I’m telling Joel.”

“Go for it, tell Joel. I’ll stick a pencil in his hair too. I’m unstoppable.” 

Maryk huffed at this, trying to work the pencil out of her hair without teasing out too much frizz. “Fine. I guess I’ll tell him that your little Rox has been late starting patrol 3 days running too. Since you apparently don’t care.”

“Uggggh.” Brandy leaned back in her chair, a hand placed dramatically over her eyes. “Maryk no, I really don’t feel like arguing with Rox right now.”

Rox was one of the newer rangers on Brandy’s team of area rangers that helped her take care of Tagtree Thicket. She was also the most contrarian person Brandy had ever met. Every order, every rule, every piece of advice was always and immediately questioned. Which was something that Brandy liked, hell it was a quality Brandy was quite proud to have in common with Rox. But being questioned day in and day out on every little thing did, as it turned out, get exhausting. 

“I mean like girl. I get it. Question authority, absolutely. But every time she’s questioned me on something I’ve given her a good reason for it. I don’t tell them to do anything if there isn’t a good reason for it. I tell them when the reason is just ‘because Joel will get mad’ and I tell them why ‘Joel getting mad’ is something they want to avoid. I have been so open and honest every single day - have I not earned any trust from this girl?”

Maryk just shrugged, still attempting to gently twist the pencil out of her hair. “I don’t know. Has Joel earned any trust from you?”

“Yes.” 

“Really?” Maryk raised an eyebrow. “Or have you just run out of things to question him on?”

“I- hm.” Brandy paused to consider this. “I guess you’re right. I just know everything now.” 

The operator rolled her eyes, finally freeing the pencil from her hair and tossing it back. “Uh huh. Well, you are a field ranger supervisor. It’s literally your job to share that knowledge. Rox is just being extra efficient about it.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Brandy sighed, and pushed herself up from the desk. “Guess I’ll go talk to her. Thanks for the tip, narc.”

“You are so welcome, tree mommy.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Oi, Rox. It’s 10:15. Pretty sure you were supposed to be out in the bush 15 minutes ago.” Rox was sitting in the staff area, feet curled up onto the brown, leather couch and phone in hand. She looked to be no older than 17, with dark hair and eyes and a misdreavus floating beside her. Brandy limped over to the young ranger in question. They noted, with slight amusement, that Rox was in fact fully in uniform and geared up, suggesting that her tardiness was just her latest way to test boundaries. 

Rox’s stubborn glare and crossed arms seemed to confirm this. “So? It’s a few minutes, what difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference in two ways, newbie.” Brandy lowered themself into a nearby chair. “One, if something happens in that forest while you’re on patrol and you aren’t there to fix it, that becomes your mistake. From the time patrol starts to the time it ends, that forest is your responsibility, and you’re culpable for anything that happens in it for that time. If you’re an area ranger and you aren’t ranging your area during your designated range time, and something goes down, it’s gonna be your ass on the line.”

“Well, that’s my risk to take.” She responded, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Yeah, but I can’t imagine you took this job to take risks. I can tell you for sure that we didn’t hire you to take risks. Personally, I’m gonna be pretty peeved with you if some nutjob with a lighter pulls some shit while you’re supposed to be out there guarding that forest.”

Rox tilted her head, acquiescing the point. “Still-”

“Hold that thought for a mo’, there’s a second point here.” Brandy cut off whatever argument Rox was about to muster. “When you start your patrol late, it screws up everyone else’s shifts. It should take the full two hours to patrol the entire forest properly, and whoever is scheduled after you can’t start their patrol until you come back and give your patrol summary. If you start late, you’re gonna end late. And if you end late, the person after you is gonna also start late. And that’s rude as hell to your teammates. You don’t know what kind of plans or appointments they have scheduled after their shift.”

Rox pursed her lips at this. As combative as she was, Brandy would not have agreed to put Rox on her team if she wasn’t the kind of person who cared about her teammates. “Well, what if I’m on the last shift of the day?”

Brandy shrugged at this. “If you’re on the last shift and you start a few minutes late, I honestly won’t give a shit. 15 minutes is pushing it though, a lot can happen in 15 minutes.” Brandy paused, a thought occurring to her. “Joel might be annoyed though, for the first reason I gave you. And he’ll know when your patrol starts, he memorizes the shifts when we send them in for approval.”

“Alright, I guess that makes sense.” 

“Girl, everything I tell you to do makes sense.” 

“Yeah, once you explain it.” Rox pushed up from the couch, giving Brandy a lazy two finger salute. “Well, I’m off then. Thanks for the talk.”

“No problem, Rox,” Brandy said, leaning back into the sofa. “Always a pleasure convincing you to do your job.”

[drugstoreglitter]

location :   uncle joe’s crab shack, fort lauderdale, florida.

featuring :    FRANKALLIE !!!!! but it’s an au in which they’ve never met

for :    @gallagherisms​

       it’s a red-hot florida summer, tide low, coast sandy, and the temperature’s already pushing ninety. saturday was meant to be her day of rest and relaxation in a rare week off from the yachting season, but so far all she seems to do is pick up the slack left by her brothers. she should be out in the van, tearing down the highway with dolly blaring from her tinny speaker, flowers in her hair and incense hanging from the mirror. she could even be tanning on an aft deck off the adriatic coast right now, a shammy in her hand and the sun on her back, had she booked on for another week of work rather than taking a so-called ‘holiday’. instead, she’s trapped inside uncle joe’s crab shack covering for leo while he plays hooky to nail some chick from arizona, because technically she owes him one, and when a castro makes a promise they take that shit to their grave. but fuck if she doesn’t wish she were someone else right now. take that cute curly-haired chick with the killer smile, for example — probably a holiday maker, sat with a bunch of other fresh faces, laughing at kai who runs the whiskey cove paddle board tours — looks like she’s having the time of her life, a stress-free existence, where all she probably has to worry about is what colour bikini to wear and whether or not she’s gonna let kai get the home run tonight. why do girls like that always end up with douchebags like kai. it’s fucking unfair. still, frankie’s trying to be a force of positivity, live laugh love in the moment and remind herself of everything there is to be grateful for, but it’s hard when it’s hot enough that it feels like sweat drips from the ceiling like stalactites, and her supposed ‘break’ has been pushed back so many times that she’ll likely have to go without. whatever. four’s only like, an hour away. she can manage ‘til then.

      can you check on table fifteen, it’s the big one with the out-of-townies, kelly’s asking her, loading frankie with another two plates before she can leave the kitchen, wince bitten in by her teeth. feels like being a stewardess all over again, but there’s a reason she’d made the switch to deck crew. she’s not good at saving face and sucking back how she really feels when faced with opposition. she can’t just lie back and think of england, never had a mother who stuck around long enough to teach her the secret handshake that held the code to being a girl.  “ can’t you just get bodhi to do it ?  i’m already covering, like, five tables, and those guys look super picky. ”  kai’s always asking for like, the weirdest thing on the menu, and then adding on a load of vegan, gluten-free, soy-free extras, as if he wants you to fuck up his order so he can write you a bad review on tripadvisor. the only thing worse than working when you’re supposed to be on holiday is serving people your age who are actually out having fun.  “ fine, whatever. i can get their drinks orders. but then i gotta take my fifteen minutes. let me just run these lobsters over to table twelve. ”  

      somewhere in the short commute, the instructions get lost in translation, frankie instead standing before the HBO remake of forgetting sarah marshall at table fifteen, all of them fresh from the surf and smelling of saltwater.  “ two surf ‘n’ turfs ? ”  frankie asks, ignored at first, then clears her throat, asks for the second time, cutting through the conversation a little more coarsely.   “ anybody order these surf ‘n’ turfs ? ”   these plates are fucking hot. her eyes are kinda pleading with the curly girl on the end, and it’s only when she feels a tap against her back and a child’s voice that says, uh, i think those are ours...  that frankie realises her mistake.  “ balls. ”  embarrassed, she whips around on her heel with such a voracity that there’s no time to slow her roll, and there’s a body where an empty space is meant to be, an edgar wright smash cut to something wholly unexpected, like that scene where regina gets totalled by a bus. she smacks straight into bodhi, now outfitted in the contents of his two seafood platters, her own spread of steak and lobster flying into the customer behind her’s lap, too startled to even hear the gasps of the hawaii five-o extras or the kid that’s covered in chowder. prawns hanging from her uniform, frankie turns back to the to the customer ; a lobster now sits like a cat in her lap and beef dripping clings to her shirt.  “ holy fuck... i am so sorry. like, you have no idea. ”  kelly’s gonna put her fucking head on a roasted halloumi and vegetable skewer. cautiously, frankie plucks the lobster from her lap. in her head, he grows an animated mouth, tells her cheer up, kid, it might never happen. well it fucking has happened. the most ridiculing moment of her life, thus far.  “ please don’t tell my boss, i’m not even meant to be working today, i’m just covering for my stupid... jesus, why am i saying this ? you don’t care about my idiot brother. ”  foot in mouth disease. sighing, frankie drops down, and begins plucking the fragments of plate from the floor where the sad steak sits in a pool of it’s own trimmings.  “ um, i can like... cover your meal ? ”  she says, her eyes scanning back up to the surfer chick covered in surf ‘n’ turf, the full florida experience.  “ or your drinks, if you’re just drinking. ” though it’ll probably cost her the entire day’s pay check with the shit they’ve been drinking. it’s like margaritaville on crack.  “ look... can you just... tell me how i can make this up to you ?  because if i don’t then i’m not gonna sleep tonight. i’ll just keep seeing your face and bolting upright in bed like that rigged little dummy kid in monsters university, y’know. ”

[possumcollege]

This really resonates with my stance on the call for artists to be more civil when people feel entitled to make demands of artists whose work displeases them.

We also don't owe people civility when the thing they're defending is openly antagonistic to our community, our rights, and our professional environment as part of its core function.

The current physical environmental costs of AI are also valid and imminently destructive so, it's just another a delaying tactic to say, it's not a bad as some things and on par with other things.

I do not care.

I'm no more required to argue on the terms of the person perpetuating or justifying the offense than I am to be gentle about it. If something's on fire, waiting to see if it was maliciously set before putting it out only serves the fire or the person who started it. It's destructive, it's dangerous, and it's already spread too far for comfort.

AI isn't like providing packaged food to people who can't cook. It's like food designed by creatures who just have one orifice for eating and secretion, and only recognize food as a thing you extract resources from. It doesn't matter what it tastes like or where it came from as long as it fills a hole and it's not the user's hole they actually care about filing.

Is something like that also nice for people who can't cook but still want food? Yes. However, treating that hole-filling slop like a revolution in expanded human capabilities in order to allow literally any business that makes food to fire their cooks and prep staff and replace them with cut-rate temps who will babysit The Machine to make sure it doesn't give the customer a salad of ethnic slurs, is shitty, disingenuous, and fundamentally antagonistic to the majority of essential workers in the food service industry. It makes thoughtful, healthy nutritionally relevant food too expensive for competitors to produce. It will drive the price of traditional food up for all consumers who don't want to eat bespoke forgery slop. If it looks exactly like what you, as a chef or line cook make but it costs 80% less, and you can get it on every corner worldwide, it's going to devalue your entire profession even if every bite actually tastes like candied styrofoam. It's fast food done worse, with more exploration, for higher profits for the manufacturer, bosses, the executives, and the shareholders but no one else.

Its fast, cheap, slop that you can have now, and you get to pretend it's yours because you told The Machine how many tits the burger should have, and don't know the people who now have to work two extra jobs because you think they were greedy snobs.

AI is a deeply self-interested, exploitative enterprise that converts stolen media into profit, and generates simulated expression as a byproduct. Exacerbating existing power disparity in creative fields is a bonus. They argue that it isn't theft because their training data was scraped from public sites but that's effectively the Stolen Land model of procurement. The original inhabitants may not have been exploiting its full spectrum of usefulness but the fact that you are and have been doing so without being stopped doesn't change the fact that all of your profits ultimately stem from theft and displacement.

I think approaching this exclusively from a copyright angle is also a bit of misdirection because copyright law is kind of a "masters tools" situation to protect the value of their investments from depreciation. That said, the harm of dilution in this context is also a very real harm and one recognized in courts. Courts that aren't packed with crooked shameless puppets, anyway.

Recognition is one of the most valuable and powerful assets an artist has. Giving everyone free run of the Counterfeit Media Machine blows a massive bleeding hole in that. People can do this by hand as well but it harder and we have pretty clear-cut remedies for the artist if the imitator tries to pass off fakes as genuine, or profits from creating visually indistinguishable material that negatively impacts the artists. AI can scrape an artists entire portfolio and create images the artist never would've agreed to, doesn't know about, and can cause irreparable damage their reputation on a heretofore unimaginable scale.

This is why so much of the Disruption Economy effectively boils down to scams. They profit from undercutting skilled labor, established businesses, and industry standards, relying on less, novelty, hype, and speculative investment to deliver a product that bleeds off just enough profit to tank a competitors ability to sustain operation. It doesn't even matter if the disruptor's system is itself unsustainable, as long as it outlasts the competition. The disruptor is now free in our Capitalist food chain to assume the niche of the predecessor, increase prices, reduce service, quality, and support, or demand to be bailed out if they find themselves in the red because they're the sole surviving provider now and failure means a vacuum. This is how monopolies defend themselves in the wild.

That last part is why they need to convince consumers that the purpose of their product is how consumers use it, and not what it does for their shareholders. By promising to level the playing field, democratize niches of privilege, empower the disenfranchised, and create opportunities for YOU, they recruit volunteers to hype up the brand for free (I fuckin SEE you over there Tesla).

They're always preaching the gospel of the future, where their sky pie has freed us from ossified elitism because it's easy to point out inefficiencies with established systems and win people over by pretending that identifying problems and fixing them are the same thing. This is why so many billionaires are pathologically long-termist. Their bread and butter is fantasy and it only has to work long enough for our money to land in their pockets. They use that money to defend the gravy train through lobbying, industry capture, and continuing to manufacture support by beating our favorite drum full of shit: marketing. It's an ouroboros of screwing people who used to make money before the next disruptor gets their turn running the exploitation factory.

We're fooling ourselves is we think they're above screwing the average user. Not just by charging for premium services, but by purposely cultivating an environment where you can't actually make a living using the tool they made for you. AI still sucks compared to professional creative labor. Its output just isn't consistent, controllable, or good enough on its own without skilled artists to fix it. Fun fact: they won't pay you artist rates if they class you as "quality control" instead. CEOs, owners, and studio executives want to replace their stubborn, inconvenient creative staff with programs that they have more direct control over. They need people to believe the tech raises them up to professional-quality work so they'll have huge pools of eager, replaceable staff with very little professional experience. AI needs you to swallow that hook too because these companies want to push paywalled premium features and railroad users into subscription access (we fuckin SEE you overthere, Adobe, Sony, Apple, Tesla again, Microsoft, Amazon, Twitter, Netflix, YouTube...).

It's the short-handled hoe of creative labor. It turns a cheap tool they bought into 3 cheaper ones they rent out. It lets you do what they need, but you have to stoop to use it, and they can take it from you whenever they want without much of a fight because you can't wield it against them in a way that really matters.

I say all that to drive home why we absolutely do not owe AI and it's biggest cheerleaders polite debate. Its purpose is what it does. Presently, what it's doing is placing even more power in the hands of management to be the ultimate decider of labor's value. It's equipping a pool of intentionally unskilled labor with nontransferrable skills to push out more competent and qualified skilled labor, and those tailor-made prompt jockeys will have even less right to ownership or fair compensation than the artists whose work was stolen to make the whole thing viable in the first place.

If someone independently decides to mark up our work, post it back to us and says, "Look, I just made your work better without you. You should have made this instead. I could do your job." That's disrespectful. It begs credit for a minimum of unwanted effort. It doesn't automatically merit a polite response.

The nicest I'd probably offer is, "Don't do that."

They're not my editor, my collaborator, my partner, my boss, or my friend. They may not even be my audience! People are free to consume things that weren't made with them in mind but demanding editorial privileges is ridiculous. Consuming hasn't bought them a creative stake in the game. Some may think the changes improved the work but art isn't a matter of public committee. They can't just declare what they've done must be OK unless it's universally denounced. That's what AI is doing while they lobby for regulation that validates their platform, secures their rights, and further insulates them from people they've already stolen from.

At best, when individuals do this they're just being critics, another job that can't exist without someone else putting in the time and labor to make something first. Generative AI lays claim to the sum of available media as research, pretends it's doing humanitarian R&D, then accumulates wealth and power by eroding the barrier of "people expect to be paid for their work". It's not science though. It's not research. It's not philanthropy. It's a product that's inherently hostile to labor within the industries it claims to serve. It does this on purpose and we know this because the people who built it said so it in messages they didn't expect anyone else to see.

People with power don't want other people to have more of it. They want the power others have to flow from them. If you then ask, "Isn't that what artists are doing? Then you are not actually familiar with how art works as a profession. It's a thing you can live on with enough of a devoted following but that following comes from your skill, your reputation, and your ability to market yourself. AI kills that. It's a predator that kills skill, wears its skin, walks around pretending to be the next evolution of human creative expression, and stuffs the saggy spots in its disguise with cash from people who believe that creative labor needs to shut up and be grateful for the exposure.

Shouldn't we be proud that people love our work so much that they want to make it perfect in their eyes?

No. Why exactly should I?

Why do the people who rip on us get a say in what should be validating to us? I'm proud to know I connected to someone though what I've made. Or when they see themselves in my expression. I'm proud if people want me to make their thing so much that they believe I'm worth the cost, or at least worth negotiating with. I'm proud if people see my work and respect me enough not to steal it, fuck it up, or show me its reassembled corpse as evidence that I did it wrong.

I don't have a ton of followers, influence, or much of a reputation myself, but my friends do. I would love to be able to support myself as working artist, but AI is going to close off avenues of opportunity for countless new and established artists. It's a cost cutting tool first and foremost. It does that by manufacturing its own evidence that, "actually this is really super easy lol." Any benefit to you as a user is secondary.

I see it like like a humidifier that achieves perfect ambient humidity but does so by converting tap water to tritium mist, which your landlord, in conjunction with the manufacturer, recover and sell. You get a few nice benefits from perfect humidity but you're filling your home with radioactive poison, contaminating it for future occupants, and generating value for people who will only reap benefits so hard that they can afford to buy their way of most foreseeable consequences.

Workers asking for fair compensation didn't make corporations act like they do. Corporations exist to insulate their shareholders from risk and they're increasingly seeing livable wages as an intolerable threat to being comfortable-bunker-rich as the world they've built starts to catch up with them again. They deserve something but civility ain't it.

AI people: we're just as much artists as you are, you gotta be so observant and go through so many correcting phases for the picture to look good uwu also AI people:

[recoverywithgh0ul]

Welcome back to the second installment offfffff what i eat in a day >o< (hopefully with some pictures)

Again basic TW for mentions of food and thoughts related to food~ also please apply the disclaimer from my last post to this one,, my body is not your body, and please provide it with what you need~/lh

(So generally speaking the last couple of days the night before I’ve kinda sat down a predetermined what i was going to have the next day, big three wise. I’ve noticed this helps me a tooonnnnn, especially since sometimes when i don’t know what to make i can grab something quick and easy, or possibly order in :/ also, I’m prewriting this part at like 4:11 am bc i can’t sleep lmao. )

Breakfast~

Okay, so for breakfast i had/am having right now lol, one egg on toast with cottage cheese, topped with chili crisp. As a side i have some tomato, and some air fried potatoes. Oh, and the dip is ranch.

(I like to put it in this portion plate both because it’s honestly adorable, and because it helps me feel fuller since, as I’ve mentioned in another post, I’m a volume eater. So plating it like this, for me can control my portions and honestly just make things a whole bunch easier because i usually have a problem over serving myself. This will not work for everyone, my portions will not be equal to everyone’s, but i can assure you, i am eating until I’m full and satisfied. Which on that note can be kinda scary. This morning was kinda rough, I wasn’t able to fall back asleep so i kinda struggled with that hunger feeling until around 6 and then just got sick of it, so i made a coffee with protein powder to hold me over to a “acceptable time for breakfast” knee jerk reaction on this thought? Stupid. Like, there’s no acceptable time to eat, you eat when your body needs food. Compassionate thought? You had a bad morning, everyone does. Good thing about it, is even though it might’ve been delayed and you went through some hurdles, you still ate, and that’s a victory in itself. Recovery is a beast, but I’m determined to show it, I’m stronger.)

Snack~

Okay, so snack, some dried pineapple, and saltines with PB and pumpkin pie seasoning. Pretty good honestly 8/10( i ended up only eating eating two of the crackers, but all of the fruit)

(I hated that i was hungry, plain and simple, but i owe it to my body to eat- and it’s not a bad thing to have a snack. Am i internally freaking bc i have no idea how many this or that and- it goes on, yes, yes i am. But, it’s what i wanted, it’s not over board, and in the long run taking care and honoring my hunger now, will prevent a binge in the future. <3 )

Snack~

Piece of habanero cheese, and two of those PB crackers from earlier made into a sandwich(like put together), no pics bc I’m lazy. I’ll do my best to get a pic for lunch tho~

(Today is proving to be a wacky day to say the least, i do want to preface this and say, all my days are NOT like this. But at this point it might seem like I’ll be eating lunch a little later in the day, so im going to have another small snack to tide me over, because that’s what my body deserves, and I’m honoring my hunger >.< for context i have to get groceries delivered because i don’t drive, and they were taking longer than expected- so yeah :/ )

Lunch~

For lunch i had a honey turkey wrap, with a side of sweet bell peppers, chips, and a dollop of ranch for dipping. Super simple, super easy, and super filling. Also helped me battle a craving for fast food, so extra feeling of accomplishment :>

(So groceries finally got here, chaos adverted, lunch has been made and eaten 10/10 the only thing with this meal is just the pure anxiety that feeling full has left. Did i over indulge? No, i ate until i was full, which is perfectly okay and normal. Today really is a day of pushing. My limits and just for lack of better words, being okay with it.)

Dinner~

Chili crisp oil garlic soup with rice, drizzled with garlic spicy sauce

(For dinner i was having really strong cravings to binge honestly, i think the stress just generally from the day is starting to get to me. To combat this, im going to partake in a coping skill to distract myself, most likely writing :> )

Snack~

PB toast with some type of topping(not sure if i want sweet or savory yet >.<)

(For snack I’m going to leave it as a option for myself, so i know I’ll be full through the night, to avoid whatever this morning was :/)

Drinks~

Protein powder with iced coffee

Aloe coconut drink with a bit of a strawberry peach crystal light flavoring packet

Aloe pineapple drink

Water throughout the day

So that was another complete what i eat in a day, today was definitely different, and 100% more stressful, but overall, I’m trying to create healthy eating habits, and eating healthy is eating in moderation, and i can still do that, and feel happy with my food choices both in a satisfied way, and my body getting what it needs way~

I hope if you’re reading this, you have a great day/night, stay strong, and love yourself~ and remember recovery is never hard, but it’s always worth it,,/g /lh

[renaissanceclassics]

Up From Slavery: Part 5

of 18 parts. Chapter IV. Helping Others

At the end of my first year at Hampton I was confronted with another difficulty. Most of the students went home to spend their vacation. I had no money with which to go home, but I had to go somewhere. In those days very few students were permitted to remain at the school during vacation. It made me feel very sad and homesick to see the other students preparing to leave and starting for home. I not only had no money with which to go home, but I had none with which to go anywhere.

In some way, however, I had gotten hold of an extra, second-hand coat which I thought was a pretty valuable coat. This I decided to sell, in order to get a little money for travelling expenses. I had a good deal of boyish pride, and I tried to hide, as far as I could, from the other students the fact that I had no money and nowhere to go. I made it known to a few people in the town of Hampton that I had this coat to sell, and, after a good deal of persuading, one coloured man promised to come to my room to look the coat over and consider the matter of buying it. This cheered my drooping spirits considerably. Early the next morning my prospective customer appeared. After looking the garment over carefully, he asked me how much I wanted for it. I told him I thought it was worth three dollars. He seemed to agree with me as to price, but remarked in the most matter-of-fact way: "I tell you what I will do; I will take the coat, and will pay you five cents, cash down, and pay you the rest of the money just as soon as I can get it." It is not hard to imagine what my feelings were at the time.

With this disappointment I gave up all hope of getting out of the town of Hampton for my vacation work. I wanted very much to go where I might secure work that would at least pay me enough to purchase some much-needed clothing and other necessities. In a few days practically all the students and teachers had left for their homes, and this served to depress my spirits even more.

After trying for several days in and near the town of Hampton, I finally secured work in a restaurant at Fortress Monroe. The wages, however, were very little more than my board. At night, and between meals, I found considerable time for study and reading; and in this direction I improved myself very much during the summer.

When I left school at the end of my first year, I owed the institution sixteen dollars that I had not been able to work out. It was my greatest ambition during the summer to save money enough with which to pay this debt. I felt that this was a debt of honour, and that I could hardly bring myself to the point of even trying to enter school again till it was paid. I economized in every way that I could think of—did my own washing, and went without necessary garments—but still I found my summer vacation ending and I did not have the sixteen dollars.

One day, during the last week of my stay in the restaurant, I found under one of the tables a crisp, new ten-dollar bill. I could hardly contain myself, I was so happy. As it was not my place of business I felt it to be the proper thing to show the money to the proprietor. This I did. He seemed as glad as I was, but he coolly explained to me that, as it was his place of business, he had a right to keep the money, and he proceeded to do so. This, I confess, was another pretty hard blow to me. I will not say that I became discouraged, for as I now look back over my life I do not recall that I ever became discouraged over anything that I set out to accomplish. I have begun everything with the idea that I could succeed, and I never had much patience with the multitudes of people who are always ready to explain why one cannot succeed. I determined to face the situation just as it was. At the end of the week I went to the treasurer of the Hampton Institute, General J.F.B. Marshall, and told him frankly my condition. To my gratification he told me that I could reenter the institution, and that he would trust me to pay the debt when I could. During the second year I continued to work as a janitor.

The education that I received at Hampton out of the text-books was but a small part of what I learned there. One of the things that impressed itself upon me deeply, the second year, was the unselfishness of the teachers. It was hard for me to understand how any individuals could bring themselves to the point where they could be so happy in working for others. Before the end of the year, I think I began learning that those who are happiest are those who do the most for others. This lesson I have tried to carry with me ever since.

I also learned a valuable lesson at Hampton by coming into contact with the best breeds of live stock and fowls. No student, I think, who has had the opportunity of doing this could go out into the world and content himself with the poorest grades.

Perhaps the most valuable thing that I got out of my second year was an understanding of the use and value of the Bible. Miss Nathalie Lord, one of the teachers, from Portland, Me., taught me how to use and love the Bible. Before this I had never cared a great deal about it, but now I learned to love to read the Bible, not only for the spiritual help which it gives, but on account of it as literature. The lessons taught me in this respect took such a hold upon me that at the present time, when I am at home, no matter how busy I am, I always make it a rule to read a chapter or a portion of a chapter in the morning, before beginning the work of the day.

Whatever ability I may have as a public speaker I owe in a measure to Miss Lord. When she found out that I had some inclination in this direction, she gave me private lessons in the matter of breathing, emphasis, and articulation. Simply to be able to talk in public for the sake of talking has never had the least attraction to me. In fact, I consider that there is nothing so empty and unsatisfactory as mere abstract public speaking; but from my early childhood I have had a desire to do something to make the world better, and then to be able to speak to the world about that thing.

The debating societies at Hampton were a constant source of delight to me. These were held on Saturday evening; and during my whole life at Hampton I do not recall that I missed a single meeting. I not only attended the weekly debating society, but was instrumental in organizing an additional society. I noticed that between the time when supper was over and the time to begin evening study there were about twenty minutes which the young men usually spent in idle gossip. About twenty of us formed a society for the purpose of utilizing this time in debate or in practice in public speaking. Few persons ever derived more happiness or benefit from the use of twenty minutes of time than we did in this way.

At the end of my second year at Hampton, by the help of some money sent me by my mother and brother John, supplemented by a small gift from one of the teachers at Hampton, I was enabled to return to my home in Malden, West Virginia, to spend my vacation. When I reached home I found that the salt-furnaces were not running, and that the coal-mine was not being operated on account of the miners being out on "strike." This was something which, it seemed, usually occurred whenever the men got two or three months ahead in their savings. During the strike, of course, they spent all that they had saved, and would often return to work in debt at the same wages, or would move to another mine at considerable expense. In either case, my observations convinced me that the miners were worse off at the end of the strike. Before the days of strikes in that section of the country, I knew miners who had considerable money in the bank, but as soon as the professional labour agitators got control, the savings of even the more thrifty ones began disappearing.

My mother and the other members of my family were, of course, much rejoiced to see me and to note the improvement that I had made during my two years' absence. The rejoicing on the part of all classes of the coloured people, and especially the older ones, over my return, was almost pathetic. I had to pay a visit to each family and take a meal with each, and at each place tell the story of my experiences at Hampton. In addition to this I had to speak before the church and Sunday-school, and at various other places. The thing that I was most in search of, though, work, I could not find. There was no work on account of the strike. I spent nearly the whole of the first month of my vacation in an effort to find something to do by which I could earn money to pay my way back to Hampton and save a little money to use after reaching there.

Toward the end of the first month, I went to a place a considerable distance from my home, to try to find employment. I did not succeed, and it was night before I got started on my return. When I had gotten within a mile or so of my home I was so completely tired out that I could not walk any farther, and I went into an old, abandoned house to spend the remainder of the night. About three o'clock in the morning my brother John found me asleep in this house, and broke to me, as gently as he could, the sad news that our dear mother had died during the night.

This seemed to me the saddest and blankest moment in my life. For several years my mother had not been in good health, but I had no idea, when I parted from her the previous day, that I should never see her alive again. Besides that, I had always had an intense desire to be with her when she did pass away. One of the chief ambitions which spurred me on at Hampton was that I might be able to get to be in a position in which I could better make my mother comfortable and happy. She had so often expressed the wish that she might be permitted to live to see her children educated and started out in the world.

In a very short time after the death of my mother our little home was in confusion. My sister Amanda, although she tried to do the best she could, was too young to know anything about keeping house, and my stepfather was not able to hire a housekeeper. Sometimes we had food cooked for us, and sometimes we did not. I remember that more than once a can of tomatoes and some crackers constituted a meal. Our clothing went uncared for, and everything about our home was soon in a tumble-down condition. It seems to me that this was the most dismal period of my life.

My good friend, Mrs. Ruffner, to whom I have already referred, always made me welcome at her home, and assisted me in many ways during this trying period. Before the end of the vacation she gave me some work, and this, together with work in a coal-mine at some distance from my home, enabled me to earn a little money.

At one time it looked as if I would have to give up the idea of returning to Hampton, but my heart was so set on returning that I determined not to give up going back without a struggle. I was very anxious to secure some clothes for the winter, but in this I was disappointed, except for a few garments which my brother John secured for me. Notwithstanding my need of money and clothing, I was very happy in the fact that I had secured enough money to pay my travelling expenses back to Hampton. Once there, I knew that I could make myself so useful as a janitor that I could in some way get through the school year.

Three weeks before the time for the opening of the term at Hampton, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from my good friend Miss Mary F. Mackie, the lady principal, asking me to return to Hampton two weeks before the opening of the school, in order that I might assist her in cleaning the buildings and getting things in order for the new school year. This was just the opportunity I wanted. It gave me a chance to secure a credit in the treasurer's office. I started for Hampton at once.

During these two weeks I was taught a lesson which I shall never forget. Miss Mackie was a member of one of the oldest and most cultured families of the North, and yet for two weeks she worked by my side cleaning windows, dusting rooms, putting beds in order, and what not. She felt that things would not be in condition for the opening of school unless every window-pane was perfectly clean, and she took the greatest satisfaction in helping to clean them herself. The work which I have described she did every year that I was at Hampton.

It was hard for me at this time to understand how a woman of her education and social standing could take such delight in performing such service, in order to assist in the elevation of an unfortunate race. Ever since then I have had no patience with any school for my race in the South which did not teach its students the dignity of labour.

During my last year at Hampton every minute of my time that was not occupied with my duties as janitor was devoted to hard study. I was determined, if possible, to make such a record in my class as would cause me to be placed on the "honour roll" of Commencement speakers. This I was successful in doing. It was June of 1875 when I finished the regular course of study at Hampton. The greatest benefits that I got out of my my life at the Hampton Institute, perhaps, may be classified under two heads:—

First was contact with a great man, General S.C. Armstrong, who, I repeat, was, in my opinion, the rarest, strongest, and most beautiful character that it has ever been my privilege to meet.

Second, at Hampton, for the first time, I learned what education was expected to do for an individual. Before going there I had a good deal of the then rather prevalent idea among our people that to secure an education meant to have a good, easy time, free from all necessity for manual labour. At Hampton I not only learned that it was not a disgrace to labour, but learned to love labour, not alone for its financial value, but for labour's own sake and for the independence and self-reliance which the ability to do something which the world wants done brings. At that institution I got my first taste of what it meant to live a life of unselfishness, my first knowledge of the fact that the happiest individuals are those who do the most to make others useful and happy.

I was completely out of money when I graduated. In company with other Hampton students, I secured a place as a table waiter in a summer hotel in Connecticut, and managed to borrow enough money with which to get there. I had not been in this hotel long before I found out that I knew practically nothing about waiting on a hotel table. The head waiter, however, supposed that I was an accomplished waiter. He soon gave me charge of the table at which there sat four or five wealthy and rather aristocratic people. My ignorance of how to wait upon them was so apparent that they scolded me in such a severe manner that I became frightened and left their table, leaving them sitting there without food. As a result of this I was reduced from the position of waiter to that of a dish-carrier.

But I determined to learn the business of waiting, and did so within a few weeks and was restored to my former position. I have had the satisfaction of being a guest in this hotel several times since I was a waiter there.

At the close of the hotel season I returned to my former home in Malden, and was elected to teach the coloured school at that place. This was the beginning of one of the happiest periods of my life. I now felt that I had the opportunity to help the people of my home town to a higher life. I felt from the first that mere book education was not all that the young people of that town needed. I began my work at eight o'clock in the morning, and, as a rule, it did not end until ten o'clock at night. In addition to the usual routine of teaching, I taught the pupils to comb their hair, and to keep their hands and faces clean, as well as their clothing. I gave special attention to teaching them the proper use of the tooth-brush and the bath. In all my teaching I have watched carefully the influence of the tooth-brush, and I am convinced that there are few single agencies of civilization that are more far-reaching.

There were so many of the older boys and girls in the town, as well as men and women, who had to work in the daytime and still were craving an opportunity for an education, that I soon opened a night-school. From the first, this was crowded every night, being about as large as the school that I taught in the day. The efforts of some of the men and women, who in many cases were over fifty years of age, to learn, were in some cases very pathetic.

My day and night school work was not all that I undertook. I established a small reading-room and a debating society. On Sundays I taught two Sunday-schools, one in the town of Malden in the afternoon, and the other in the morning at a place three miles distant from Malden. In addition to this, I gave private lessons to several young men whom I was fitting to send to the Hampton Institute. Without regard to pay and with little thought of it, I taught any one who wanted to learn anything that I could teach him. I was supremely happy in the opportunity of being able to assist somebody else. I did receive, however, a small salary from the public fund, for my work as a public-school teacher.

During the time that I was a student at Hampton my older brother, John, not only assisted me all that he could, but worked all of the time in the coal-mines in order to support the family. He willingly neglected his own education that he might help me. It was my earnest wish to help him to prepare to enter Hampton, and to save money to assist him in his expenses there. Both of these objects I was successful in accomplishing. In three years my brother finished the course at Hampton, and he is now holding the important position of Superintendent of Industries at Tuskegee. When he returned from Hampton, we both combined our efforts and savings to send our adopted brother, James, through the Hampton Institute. This we succeeded in doing, and he is now the postmaster at the Tuskegee Institute. The year 1877, which was my second year of teaching in Malden, I spent very much as I did the first.

It was while my home was at Malden that what was known as the "Ku Klux Klan" was in the height of its activity. The "Ku Klux" were bands of men who had joined themselves together for the purpose of regulating the conduct of the coloured people, especially with the object of preventing the members of the race from exercising any influence in politics. They corresponded somewhat to the "patrollers" of whom I used to hear a great deal during the days of slavery, when I was a small boy. The "patrollers" were bands of white men—usually young men—who were organized largely for the purpose of regulating the conduct of the slaves at night in such matters as preventing the slaves from going from one plantation to another without passes, and for preventing them from holding any kind of meetings without permission and without the presence at these meetings of at least one white man.

Like the "patrollers" the "Ku Klux" operated almost wholly at night. They were, however, more cruel than the "patrollers." Their objects, in the main, were to crush out the political aspirations of the Negroes, but they did not confine themselves to this, because schoolhouses as well as churches were burned by them, and many innocent persons were made to suffer. During this period not a few coloured people lost their lives.

As a young man, the acts of these lawless bands made a great impression upon me. I saw one open battle take place at Malden between some of the coloured and white people. There must have been not far from a hundred persons engaged on each side; many on both sides were seriously injured, among them General Lewis Ruffner, the husband of my friend Mrs. Viola Ruffner. General Ruffner tried to defend the coloured people, and for this he was knocked down and so seriously wounded that he never completely recovered. It seemed to me as I watched this struggle between members of the two races, that there was no hope for our people in this country. The "Ku Klux" period was, I think, the darkest part of the Reconstruction days.

I have referred to this unpleasant part of the history of the South simply for the purpose of calling attention to the great change that has taken place since the days of the "Ku Klux." To-day there are no such organizations in the South, and the fact that such ever existed is almost forgotten by both races. There are few places in the South now where public sentiment would permit such organizations to exist.

[wonderland-productions-blog]

Knight in Dulled Armor: Ch. 10

Chapter 10: Rapid Remedy

Tw: Written Blood/ Mild Gore

Word Count: ~4,500 (~15 min read)

Work is slow until my shift ends. Thankfully there aren’t many customers I have to plaster a smile on for. While I’m grateful for the light workload, especially with my fatigue, I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to heading back to my room. It was mostly busy work, sweeping, table cleaning, a couple of orders, but also a bit of laundry to set up the empty rooms.

Admittedly, I’ve been reveling in the tasks that don’t require me to do much more than standing. The tavern feels awfully warm today, even with the heat I thought I’d gotten used to by now. I take my time folding the excess linen, the cool laundry room offers a slight remedy to my hot flashes.

Marietta and I hardly speak, and though I’m not completely sure I’ve done wrong, I feel bad for making her feel this way. I’m certainly not going to confront her about it, hoping it will fade as her stresses with Val’s health did. 

Val for the time being, is bedbound. I decide to order us both food and drinks to take back with me, making my way to the order window. This also serves as an excuse to push back returning to my room. Hidorah works longer shifts than I do a few times a week I’ve noticed. Though I’m sure he couldn’t complain about the extra coin.

 I greet him, surprising him behind the countertop. “Hello Hidorah, what kind of food does Val like?”

“Oh, you’re finally done with work!” He exclaims. I watch him jot down something and pass the note to another cook.

“It hasn’t been that long since we’ve last talked,” I shrug.

“Yes, but I’ve been waiting to talk to you,”

“Oh?”

“You know what this means, right?” He asks.

“Uh?” 

“Well, first of all, I owe you a thank you. So, your food is on me for tonight,” 

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It was obviously you who healed my palm,” He chuckles.

“Oh, I suppose that’s a bit more plausible, isn’t it?”

“It’s a good thing to know, aren’t you excited?” 

“I kind of just feel… Dizzy? Everything that happened has left my brain feeling foggy at best,”

“That’s fair, you should try and take it easy tonight,” he says, giving me a small wave as he heads deeper into the kitchen.

I linger at the window for a moment, turning to stare at the bar behind me. One drink is obvious; Val had ordered the same thing almost every visit to the tavern. I pour him a glass of whiskey only to find that the bottle had emptied a small bit lower than I usually fill it. Not wanting to open a new bottle tonight, I top it off with about a shot glass worth of water. For myself, I pour a simple wine.

“So… What have you made us?” I ask.

He sets Val’s plate down. It’s of course practically the opposite of my tastes; meaty, spiced food with more grain than veggie. It makes sense seeing the way he is. 

Hidorah sits himself on the cushioned barstool with a long sigh after setting the plates down. He stares at me with a smirk as collect our drinks. An iced whiskey and wine, simple, easy. “What?” I ask, tired of him staring at me with that obnoxious grin plastered on his face. 

“So, only one bed, right?” He says, his smile still there to my disappointment.

“What? Oh-” The words fall out of my mouth and clatter to the ground, forcing everything else to quiet. Only one bed. The sentence played through my mind over and over. The glass of wine vibrates in my trembling hands. 

“Well, your food is done, and it’s getting to be evening. Don’t you think it's time to retire for the night?” He says, absolutely relishing this conversation. “Go on, head back. Just take the rest of your night to relax.” Hidorah says, his grin sinking into me.

“Yes, of course,” I say, picking up our food and drinks, trying my best to keep them stable in my shaky hands. 

I open my door to see Val sitting on my bed against the wall. He turns to look at me, “You’re back.” His voice holding a higher inflection than usual. 

“I brought us some dinner,” I say, setting it down on my nightstand. 

“I can see that, thank you.” he says, taking a breath for a sigh, “I don’t really like eating inside the tavern, I usually take my food back to my room. More privacy.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask, swooping my food plate up to head back out to the bar counter. 

“No, that’s alright. I don’t think I’ll mind with you.” He says.

I look back to see him shaking his hair from his helm that had now sat in his hands. 

Unkempt bangs hang low, covering most of his face. Only a portion of his chin slipped through the long locks.

“Do you think you could put my hair up, Elaine?” 

I muster out an, “Mhm” after my throat forces a gulp. I steady my breath, daring not to steal a glance as I fetch a ribbon from my drawer. I crawl behind him on the bed, pulling the locks from either side of his face to his back. For the first time, we are around the same height, though I’ve adjusted to a tall kneel on my knees.

My fingers trace behind a pair of pointed ears, accidentally grazing one of the larger notches along its ridge. His skin is so warm, especially the back of his neck. I lift his hair up, finding a long, thin white scarf underneath.  

Tattered and riddled with holes, it prompts me to ask. “Why not get a new scarf? I’d be happy to give you one or even make you another if you’re looking for something specific,”

I feel such a strong urge to talk with him, though I can’t understand why. Even in my most nervous states, I’ve rarely blurted out anything or stuttered as often as I do around Val on a regular basis. Much like Kyzu in public, a muzzle would serve me well. 

I continue pulling his thick black hair together into the loosely tied ribbon while waiting for his response. Perhaps awkward silence is what fits best in the space between us.

“It’s not a scarf, it’s my baby blanket.” He says, tipping his head down. I look back at the jumbled piece of cloth resting on my bed. It instantly clicks and the ragged off-white wool now resembles the proportions of a baby blanket. 

An immediate “Aww,” slips out of my mouth. A small, guttural sound emerges from his throat for a moment before he catches it. I cringe, shaking my head as I tie up his hair. I sit beside him, moving up from my previous seat. “Make yourself comfortable, take your boots off if you’d like. Can’t imagine the metal would be pleasant right now.” I suggest. 

He takes this advice, pulling his boots off to show thin footwraps beneath. I stare for a moment, our feet beside one another were drastically different sizes. Mine weren’t exactly petite, just a bit smaller than average while his were huge, my toes only reaching to the arch of his feet, despite being heel to heel. 

He takes his food from the bedside table and passes me mine. A thick slab of meat over rice with a peppery red sauce drizzled over it sat on his hefty plate. Mine looks a bit more meager compared to it; two large grilled mushroom caps over a small amount of pasta with a red sauce as well as some kind of baked stalky vegetable on the side. I see him cut into his food, trying my best not to stare. He opens his mouth wide for a bite he’d managed to support with the dwarfed fork in his hand. His bottom canines are large, and jutting, protruding from his mouth still after closing it. 

His most prominent feature isn't anything I'd ever considered regarding his possible appearances. Not that I spent much time thinking about all the possibilities that lay beneath his helm, of course.

His skin holds a strong green hue. It clicks just then, that Val, is an orc. Everything fits into place at this very moment. His large figure, his armor, his voice. That voice.

Orcs weren't necessarily rare in Asteria, it's just that I never interacted with them much in my day-to-day life. They mostly worked in labor; guard, mercenary, construction, etc. Asteria never had much business with orcs, so I was never formally introduced to any. I suppose this could be one of the reasons I’m awkward or nervous around Val, it's just that I don’t have much experience in his customs. Some part of me must have known he was at least somewhat orc.

Val’s tongue was smooth, and a bit sleeker than average, barely noticeable at first sight, glistening with a bluish hue. He finally sinks his beastly canines into the thick piece of grilled meat. A chill runs up my spine. 

  I take a bite, trying not to draw so much attention to myself by staring without reason.

My eyes finally meet his; his gaze is intense, dark, and unflinching. This was contrary to mine, as an understatement. My breath hitched as I took in all of his features and I felt my face flush as he refused to take his eyes off of me, drinking me in just as I'd done him. Something was catastrophically different with the way he looked me up and down just now, though he'd done it a hundred times before. 

He shifts closer to me, cocking his head mere inches away from my face. A strong jaw dotted with silvery black stubble, an aquiline nose, and thick, dark brows distract me for a moment, I’ll admit. He brings a gloved hand to my face, holding my chin. He swipes his thumb across my cheek while using his other hand to tuck a stray lock behind my ear. He pulls away.

“You had a bit of food on your cheek, I figured I’d get it for you.” He says. 

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I barely manage, my face turning even further red.

He wasn’t a talkative eater by any means. I’d been used to chatting with others while sitting at the bar, but by now it feels bizarre to eat in silence. I cut a mushroom in half, then fourths until I could manage its size in my mouth. I glance back at Val, watching him eat quickly and cleanly, for the most part. I watch him take a huge chunk of meat, managing it without issue until he looks at me. A dribble of the red sauce flows down his chin. 

For a moment the thought of him more carnal appeared in my mind, bloodied with something not his own. This should be frightening to me; he is large, strong, and dangerous in the wrong situation, but as I stare at him this is impossible to believe. He wipes his chin with his thumb. I watch his lips press against it for a moment, seeing a glint of his gums beneath his canines. “Do you want to try it?” He asks, most likely not sure why I’m staring.

“Oh, no. I don’t really like meat.” I tell him. 

His brows furrow, “What’s that then?” gesturing toward my plate.

“My grilled mushroom cap? I use it as a meat substitute of sorts. Do you want to try it?” I explain before offering him a bit speared on my fork. I gesture it toward him, expecting him to take it. He instead brings his head down slightly closer, taking the bite off my fork while I hold it. 

“I could get used to you feeding me. Think if I were a little sicker you would?” He chuckles, his bite stuffed in his cheek. 

I feel my face grow hot for a moment. “What do you think?” I ask, pulling the conversation away. 

“It’s not as dense as meat, chewier, and more fibery too. It tastes good though” He says, swallowing. 

“Glad you like the taste at least,” I say.

He, to no shock, finishes his food much faster than I do. He readjusts on the bed into a more comfortable position. I continue eating and he occupies himself by fidgeting with his fingers. I set my plate down for a moment, “You know, I believe you mentioned never having been to Braiewood recently. I actually just picked up a book on it if you’re interested.”

“Oh?” He exclaims.

I fetch the book from my bag I’d placed in the corner yesterday and hand it over to him. He skims through it as I continue eating. I finish up and pick up both our plates, leaving our half-empty glasses on the nightstand. As I approach the door a meager knock breaks the silence in the room. I hear a shuffling behind me, craning my neck to see Val putting his helm back on.

“Oh, Marietta!” I say, finding that she’s let herself in. 

“Um, just checking in on Val.” She explains. Before she steps beyond the doorway he just his arm out and gives her a thumbs up, the same as he’d done before. 

“I’m feeling well, not perfect, but doing better,” he says. 

“Do you… need further examination you think?” She presses further, taking a step closer.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary, though I will be sure to tell you if anything changes of course,” Val tells her.

“Oh, alright then. I suppose I’ll take my leave. I’m heading home for the night, ask Hidorah to get me if you need anything, he’ll know what to do.” She says before leaving the room, the door slightly ajar. 

Val waits a moment before speaking, “I don’t want to bother her, she always seems so busy.” 

“Yeah, but it's not like she wouldn’t sacrifice her time for you. Especially now with you being injured,” I tell him.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

I’m taken aback by his response, “Well, she just really likes you is all. She talks about you any chance she gets. Any time you’re mentioned,” 

“Does she? Interesting. I’ve never seen myself as someone worth talking about. I hope it doesn’t upset Hidorah too much,” Val says. 

It occurs to me now that we have very different views on what exactly Hidorah and Marietta’s relationship with one another is. From working with them for a bit of time now, just seeing the way they interact with one another and of course, our private conversations I’ve heard more than enough gossip between the two of them. Quite a bit more than Val has, if I were to guess.

“You know Marietta and Hidorah aren’t together, right?” I blurt out. 

“Oh? Is that right? Hidorah always seemed so…” He stalls, then decides to stop completely. 

“And again, Marietta really likes you.” I reiterate, trying to gauge his reaction through the helm he has left on. 

Something burrows its way into my stomach as silence fills the room, it shifts around making me anxious. It kicks a thought up to my brain, making me wonder why I even bother prying into such matters. My nervousness around him has persisted through our entire time knowing each other and I’m still unable to pinpoint what is causing it. It may be just that I haven’t seen many as intimidating as him, still unable to shake these feelings of fear as someone smaller than him. But these emotions are rooted deeper, ones that I didn’t possess the tools to unearth just yet. I was waiting to be handed a shovel instead of clawing at stiff, rocky earth with my bare hands. 

“I think… I’ve known. I don’t know what to tell you, whether she wanted you to ask or if you alone were curious, but I don’t think I’m interested in Marietta. She is a wonderful, vibrant person, please don’t misunderstand me, but there are a lot of things that have led me to this answer.” He finally explains. 

My stomach knots tighten, hoping now that he would have let the silence consume us instead. I muster out a weak nod, rubbing my eyes. I draw in a shaky breath and let my hands fall to my thighs with an audible pat.

“Why?” rolls from my tongue, spilling into the room. By the time I try to catch the remainder of the word, it has made its place as a stain on our conversation. 

Val seems taken aback, straightening his posture and facing more toward me. He stays quiet for a moment, and I am unsure whether he is deciding what to say or needs me to elaborate. A few more seconds of silence pushes me to the latter. 

“I see so many people at the tavern attempting to flirt with Marietta every day. Why are you any different?” I blurt out, quickly getting up as I realize what I’ve said. 

“Elaine, I’m going to be honest with you…” Val says, taking off his helm to make eye contact with me. He brushes a lock of hair to the side as his brow furrows. His lips curve, his upward fangs now barely showing. “You are very blunt for someone who comes from a prestigious family.” He continues. 

I shoot him a confused look with my mouth agape for a moment.  

Val averts his eyes, clearing his throat before speaking once more, “It feels like you’re being a bit more hostile than you were initially when we met. I know you’re good friends with Marietta,” He says, grabbing my wrist with her bracelet dangling from it, “and you want to help her, but I assure you this isn’t how.” he finishes. 

I feel my face grow hot, staring at my wrist enveloped by his thinly gloved hand. My arm grows warmer and my palm sweats from the heat he emanates. His fingers twitch, his thumb brushing his ring finger as they still were wrapped around my wrist. I swallow, my eyes trailing up to eventually meet his. A rickety breath escapes me, trying to think about what I say next carefully.  

My mind empties any thoughts yet to be finished when he stands up, still holding my wrist. I crane my neck, his towering frame over me becoming far too overwhelming. I take a step back, feeling a tug. He slowly releases his grasp, letting my hand slide down his. He twitches, his hand wrapping around mine for just a moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Elaine. I just figured you would understand a bit more because…” He stops.

“Because why?” I plead, needing to know and not caring to hold back my tongue.

“I was under the impression that you at least liked me, Elaine!” He says, his voice dropping down to a quiet growl. 

“Liked you? Why would you assume that?” I scoff, turning away as my heart skips a beat.

“Well, spending so much time laying close to me to ensure I didn’t die would give any man the impression someone would consider them at least acquaintances.” He whispers, his voice breaking ever so slightly. 

“You heal me, at your own sake at that, and can’t accept that I’m not interested in having you set me up with your friend? Come on, Elaine.” Val continues in a much less harsh tone now.

My eyes widen. I stay quiet for a moment, acknowledging that I’ve been misreading the situation. Val is so much more of a literal thinker than I am. I let out a sigh.  I bite at the inside of my cheek, trying to find a way to pull myself out of the hole I’ve dug because of my impatient tongue, “You’re right. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have favored my friend’s desires over your boundaries. You said you weren’t interested in her, and I should have accepted that rather than fighting her battles for her. But, I’d still tell her on your own if she’s persistent.” I tell him, feeling guilty that I had to bend the truth to match his view. I shouldn’t care why exactly he isn’t interested in Marietta if I’m not asking on her behalf. So why do I?

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.” He says, giving me a small smile for the first time. Without realizing it, I give him one back, an embarrassingly large grin compared to what I usually give people. “It’s getting late, I’ll go grab you some blankets and a bedroll,” I say purely as an excuse to leave the room.

Grabbing not only a bedroll but also a new set of sheets for my bed, I find that I want to leave the musty storage room as quickly as I’d arrived. After a slow, long walk back to my room I lay the bedroll on the floor as well as a couple of pillows and a large, thick blanket. I take a step back to make sure it looks alright, putting my hands on my hips. I look back at Val, who had gotten up from the bed. 

I begin stripping the bed of its layers of sheets and covers, each one underneath soaked with a little less blood. By the time my mattress is fully nude, I end up with three large pieces of fabric draped over my shoulder. “Do you want me to get it? I wouldn’t want to stain your uniform with my blood.” Val offers. 

“Good idea, the laundry bin is in the corner at the end of the main hall.” I tell him, cautiously handing him the mass of bedding, “I’m going to change for bed.” I add on as he takes his time walking out. He nods, heading out of the room still in slight pain, or at least cautious of his wound, though not as bad as before. 

I allow myself a moment to take in the new atmosphere of the room. A dimly lit, cool space that seemed easy to fall asleep in. That is, it would be if I weren't dotted with blood splatters and unidentifiable stenches. I strip off my uniform, slipping on a thin, short-sleeved tunic. I crouch, hunched over my wardrobe bottom drawer looking for suitable thin, soft pants to wear to bed. 

A creak breaks the silence. My neck snaps back, seeing Val duck out of the room with a breathy amalgamation of a grunt and stutter. I throw on a pair, jumping to slip my foot through on one side. “I told you I was going to change!” I yell through the door. I put my ear to it, listening for a response. 

“I thought you meant change the sheets…” a meek voice expresses through the door. I hear a cackle emanate from further behind the door, almost completely muffled. I open the door, allowing Val to come in and take off his helm once more. Keeping it ajar, I peek around to see Hidorah still at the bar with a book off to his side. Something tells me he won’t be heading back home tonight.

By the time the door shuts, I turn to see my bed already made with new sheets. I look down at Val who’d already made himself comfortable in the bedroll, though he doesn’t exactly fit. He had rolled away from me, his injured side facing upwards rather than putting pressure on it. 

“We’ll be sure to check on your wound in the morning. Let me know if anything changes until then,” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood a bit. I notice him give a halfhearted nod despite facing away.

I part my linens and tuck my legs between my blankets, sitting with my back against the headboard. “Quite the day, can only imagine tomorrow will be better.” I breathe, only half sure Val is awake to hear me. 

“Tell me about it, I’m lucky I made it as far as I did without my horse,” He says.

“You’re lucky Marietta was far enough to find you,” I point out.

“That’s true, for once Marietta’s taste in artisanal pastries and bread paid off,” He chuckles.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and looked too dangerous while doing it. What else is new?” He says. “I blame myself though, I was practically praying to Touluda for my work to be done early so I could get back to the tavern sooner. I suppose I got what I wished for in a way,” he laughs. 

“Touluda?” I simply ask, too hung up on it to respond to anything else. I glance over at him, seeing him roll over onto his back. 

“O-oh, she’s the patron goddess of connection. And morality, but that's not relevant,” he groggily explains.

“So, what did you want from the tavern?” I ask, wondering why he wanted to return faster than planned.

“Well, you-” he says his voice fading out.

“Well, I what?” I ask. I turn to see he’s put an arm over his face and pulled his blanket up much higher. His body looks completely still until I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

“Did you fall asleep?” I mutter, furrowing my brows. This was the first time I’d ever seen someone fall asleep mid-sentence, though I’ll allow an exception because of the state of his health. 

But what was he going to say? I try and fill in some of the possible answers knowing it would provide nothing useful.

“Well, you forgot to give back my water bottle,” My mind offers as a possibility.

“Well, you should prepare a certain room early for me,” perhaps.

“Well, you need to leave the tavern,” a worrying option. What could he mean? What did I need to do? I sink deeper into bed, looking at the ceiling with a blank stare. It doesn’t take much for the stress I’ve endured throughout the day to put me to sleep. 

[apaise]

❛  you  owe  me  dinner .  i’ll  settle  for  tacos !    ❜ steph @ ella

when she first heard that jo and will had never been to an ocean park before, ella made it a top priority to squeeze a trip into the camp's schedule ( maddy graciously permitting the change ). it was slightly out of budget but with her father busier than usual, he didn't notice the extra charges to the maplewood account. and for once his assistant turned a blind eye to ella's antics, no doubt intending for ella to return the favor some time. yet ella didn't care about the tacit stipulations, too excited for the campers to have this special day at the atlantis cove.

she was supposed to be one of the chaperones on the bus, but unfortunately duty called, and chat noir was needed in the city. she would have to catch up with everyone later, claiming to have a meeting with her father in the meanwhile.

it was business as usual out in hell's kitchen, but as soon as ella could catch her breath . . she noticed she missed about 37 calls on her cellphone. three from quinn, the rest from maddy; apparently the bus had started smoking about an hour into the trip. the calls from maddy were a panicked frenzy while quinn's were much calmer, telling her they were handling it and not to worry. the third call from quinn shared that steph had diagnosed the issue -- probably making some joke about being a bus nurse too, knowing her. ella felt an immense wave of relief as quinn told her everything was back on schedule, and to just meet them at atlantis cove.

when ella arrives, the campers seem to be doing just fine, unaffected by the little scare earlier. after thanking quinn and maddy, ella searches for steph, needing to express her gratitude. she eventually finds their savior with some of the cubs at the penguin sanctuary, keeping everyone bright smiles with her jokes. while the kids go to watch a short film about global warming and its effects on penguins, ella takes the opportunity to catch steph alone, telling her she completely saved the day. it's only when she speaks she hears how anxious she had been. but if they hadn't been able to make it to the park, ella doesn't know how she would've managed to fool her dad with the billing a second time.

owing someone dinner isn't a first for ella. in order to secure some of the nicer equipment at camp maplewood, she's used her family name to get vendors into michelin star restaurants like the red orchid. but it's the first time someone's ever requested tacos. the unexpectedness of it has ella blinking, and then laughing. perhaps more than such a joke would usually warrant, but after such a stressful day wracked with pent-up worries, it feels good to laugh.

❝ that's a very reasonable hero's fee, ❞ she nods, still chuckling. ❝ tacos it is then. ❞ luckily, they happen to serve all sorts of tacos at atlantis cove. ❝ . . . i think they have something called 'the whale' here, ❞ she muses in remembering. as a kid she had always wanted to try the 14-inch taco food challenge, but neither her father or her chaperones would ever let her. ❝ it's supposed to be for only the biggest taco enthusiasts. ❞

[cadencemonroe]

What a New Years Event.

Cadence wasn't sure when or if this baby was ever coming out. She sat in front of her mirror with somewhat of a pursed lip as she stared at herself. Admittedly her eyes wandered from her face and hair down to her overgrowing stomach. She looked at the time and saw that it was just after five. She knew that she was supposed to go out with Nev but she wasn't feeling up to it so she decided on a shower and something comfy to watch the ball drop. She was feeling a little extra uncomfortable and she'd even had what she thought was a few contractions earlier but they weren't consistent nor were they too bad so she didn't know what to think. She timed them when they happened but for the time being she felt okay so she decided a shower was necessary. She wasn't sure when she was going to the hospital so she wanted to at least have a shower to be prepared.

Out of the shower and prepped for the night Cadence ordered dinner in for her and Nevaeh so she could make sure the blonde ate before her night out. Once dinner arrived Cadence made sure they both ate. She was wanting Nevaeh to go out and have a great time. She knew that Nev would be bummed that she wasn't going but she knew that Nev would understand with her being as pregnant as she was and being overdue. "I want you to have fun..Ow!" Mid sentence the contractions were back. Breathing through the first one told her this could be it but she wasn't prepared to tell Nevaeh that she thought she was going into labor. She didn't know if it was real or not. She hoped it was. She'd been ready to serve an eviction notice for a while but she knew when the baby was ready the baby was ready.

She tried to put on a brave face. She tried to hide the contractions from her roommate. She didn't want to ruin her night. Gripping the couch she let out a cry that she was sure scared her roommate. "What's wrong Cadence?" she heard behind her. Before she could answer appropriately she cried out again. Finally able to take a breath she sat back and sighed. "Nothing.. Just a little labor." she shook her head slightly. She meant it to sound like a joke but the truth was this labor was no joke so she was sure the pain was coming through. Without hesitation she could hear Nevaeh on the move. She wasn't sure what the blonde was doing but she had a feeling it had to do with her being or possibly being in labor. She wanted to cry out again but she held back. When she heard Nevaeh come back she looked up at her.

Next thing she knew they were getting out of the house and into the car. She was thankful that her bag was packed and by the door and Nev knew that. Getting to the hospital wasn't easy. The fact that she was contracting more than she had all day scared her. She had no idea when or how they truly got to the hospital. Once there she was put into a wheelchair and taken to the maternity ward where once in a room and changed she was able to relax a little better. Time seemed to pass by slowly. Finally when she couldn't take it anymore she asked for an epidural. The truth was she was thankful for Nevaeh. She looked over at the blonde. "You know you can go party right?" she asked. She felt bad for her being in the hospital with her. "I don't want to ruin your new year." she sighed.

She sat up and welcomed the epidural once she finally got it. She was finally able to relax. She was thankful for that. She was also thankful when Nevaeh told her that she was going to stay with her. She was definitely lucky. Around eleven the doctor said it was time to push. She looked over at Nevaeh. "Stay please." She pleaded. "When I say push you push." She nodded to the Doctor. "Push!" She began to push. She didn't realize pushing was so hard. She pushed for an hour and at 12:01 am Scarlett Eloise Monroe was born. A baby girl. Cadence was surprised and pleased. She would have been happy if the baby had been a boy but here she sat skin to skin with her newborn daughter. She looked up at her roommate and she smiled. "Nevaeh, I'd love for you to meet Scarlett Eloise Monroe." she smiled before leaning her head down to kiss her little head. "Welcome to the world little bean." she said softly.

[orionin]

The baby grand piano sits abandoned in the corner of The Black Velvet when he walks in.

It feels strange to not be greeted by soft piano music playing as he steps behind the counter. After he puts away his coat and folds back the sleeves of the black sweater he's wearing he glances at his watch. It's Sunday, 4:05 AM which means he's just barely missed Lana's set. Pity, he thinks to himself before making his way around the counter. He's always liked listening to her sing.

Then as if she's heard his thoughts she comes and sits a few seats down from an older couple that's ordering their drinks. Jiho glances Lana's way, gives her a small nod to acknowledge her before returning his attention to the couple in front of him - I'll have a scotch neat and gin and tonic for the lady.

"Hello Ilana, what are you having today?" Jiho asks, now that he's able to give part of his attention. He listens then responds to her question with a half smile. It's true that he doesn't get involved with what happens around The Black Velvet. There had been a time when he'd listen closely to chatter of those who seat themselves at the bar or see a subtle touch on his wrist when he serves a drink as an golden opportunity. But these days he keeps a healthy distance between himself and most who come in. He treats them well but pays them no extra mind nor give them reason to linger longer than they should around him. It's a strange change for someone as extroverted and desperate for money as he is but he's had the breakup with Aki to blame for that.

"It's better this way to not get too involved. I have a bad habit of getting myself into trouble otherwise." Jiho smiles when she offers to help him but shakes his head. "The last thing I'd want is to get you or Luna mixed up in all this." He likes Ilana and he understands that she only offers because she does care. She's the only person at The Black Velvet he trusts and has come to love her like an older sister but he'd never forgive himself if something happened to the two of them the people he owes money to were ruthless and would stop at nothing to keep him in check. Afraid that he'd run off like his brother Jiho knows there's always someone in the shadows waiting for him to make one wrong move.

When she asks about his brother his hand slips. It's a small stupid slip up that causes him to knock over the glass and gin, ice and tonic runs messily across the counter. The couple pause their own conversation to look at Jiho with curious expressions.

The question is so simple but Jiho takes a minute to think of how to answer as he wipes down the counter with a towel. The scent of Gin is strong. "A beautiful woman. Gambling addiction." The couple lose interest then and return to their own conversation and once he's certain they're not listening he pulls a card from his pocket. “It all started with this actually.” he holds it up between two fingers, offering it to Lana to hold if she wants to— it's a hwata card. Matte black on one side, brilliant shade of red on the other and it catches the dim lights. "Truthfully, I don't know what happened to him. One day he was lecturing me about going to school so I can make something of myself... then he just disappeared."

Scotch and velvet.

FOR @ORIONIN, BLACK VELVET SPEAKEASY, SEOUL.

FEBRUARY 2022  ⬩  6PM  ⬩  DAY 09

The lights are dimmed. In the background, murmurs and whispers lacing with the smoke of cigars. Sundays are slow, the regulars have claimed their usual table in the center of the speakeasy, the perfect night and setting to dissect and discuss business. Men mostly, of a certain age, gathered around the kangpae's attention. In the south of the city many traffics take place under her eyes. She is not unknown on the underground scene - on the contrary. The songstress, the fallen angel, the serpent, the whisperer. She has gained her reputation, for always associating with the right ones, for the many betrayals she has committed as well. An opportunist. One not to trust. Her goal was never to shine or make a name here but only to get everything she needed to take care of herself and her daughter : money. She is in her signature red dress, catwalking, standing up from the kangpae's table to join the bar's counter. She comes and goes, in between chats and drinks during her breaks, gracing the room with her voice whenever her heels bring her back under the spotlights. 4am. Her stage was reaching an end as the songstress now had to spend the following hours of the night waiting for her paycheck and perhaps tips if the mob was feeling generous. Behind the bar, Jiho. She takes place in front of him, on one of the high chair made of black velvet. "Mmm I'm exhausted of these business talks, I need a drink." She confides, rolling her eyes. She then rests her elbows down the counter, her long hair cascading at the side of her forearms as her dark eyes are resting on him. Eyes as deep as the raven of her hair and the fires in her perfume. "You don't get involved, do you?"

Her voice is deep and calm, there is a tranquil smile on her lips. She's thankful for his presence. He is a kind man, Ilana knows that. A gentle soul. But oh, don't good hearts always end up here? Tainted. Scorched. In the cold arms and bloody guts of Itaewon. On some days she is afraid he might disappear, one day. After finding his answers, after taking care of his debts, singing up for a better life with his girlfriend and leave her behind. It wasn't that the songtress absolutely needed someone to survive in this environment, she was less on her pride however, more enclined to ask for help, for company in her darkest days and nights. "As the days are passing, I have been realizing something..." Her voice echoes in some sort of a whisper as her eyes connect and follow his actions closely from above the marble. Ilana's struggles were known and overknown. Whenever Jiho would come over to spend an entire afternoon with Luna, helping her with homeworks as Ilana had to disappear for hours, attending places of shade and secrets - closed doors it was better for her to keep away from her daughter. Moments of calm like this one were rare. Discussing Jiho's issues was rare, too. She wanted in a little more, perhaps be there for him the way he was for her. The only difference was how unreliable she could be, unstable but her heart was in it. "I can help you, too. I know, my methods might not be the best but," And she laughs, with that slightly deranged laughter of hers. Of a woman who fights for her life yet in an impulsive way, as if there was no tomorrow. "Family is a gift Mother Nature has given us. Skin of your skin, blood of your blood. I remember being young... and mad. Furious that after all this love she has given me, she would simply take it back the way it pleases her. To just... take my family away, leave me all by myself. " The corner of her lips are drawing lines, of saddened smiles, dammed memories, tragedies of the past. "And then I finally understood, it is not Nature who wants to watch you ache and suffer. It's humans themselves, with that sick pleasure of theirs." Twisted, when thinking about what she did to the father of her daughter, hidding Luna from him, going away, never looking back. Wasn't she one of these humans, too? "What happened to him? Your brother."

[furiousgoldfish]

If you tell people stories about your abuse, and it happens to be something extremely messed up and inhumane, their reactions are either repulsion or sick fascination, like they’ve found something unusual and interesting, something that tinkles their curiosity.

In neither scenario people feel the urge to be extra gentle and careful with you, neither of them thinks how you need the world to soothe you and to enable you to function. Instead it’s the urge to either get away from you because you’re too much to handle, or you’re the subject of someone’s fascination with the weird and inhumane. They will ask you details about it but not feel much compassion for you, they’re only studying you, trying to figure out how you’re still alive and in their heads, summing up whats wrong with you.

To us, the second one feels like attention, and we’re not picky about where we get our attention from; we’re grateful someone is interested, in whatever way that might be. We assume someone wanting to know is someone caring, we’re appreciative of the care and we share the details.

But this person is unlikely to then proceed to be kind. They’re more likely to experiment on us and indulge in the details of our abuse to satisfy their own sick desires. And when they’re done, when they’ve sucked as much pleasure as they could from our trauma, they’ll be happy to patronize us and tell us what we should have done and then drop us if we don’t agree. Making us feel like it’s our fault we lost them, when we never had them in the first place, it was just that the events of our life served a purpose that a documentary would.

Sometimes people like that go and study psychology, in order to get to be fascinated by our struggles. They want the details not to help us, but to help themselves. They’re only interested in studying us from a detached perspective, like we’re subjects in a lab, just to be experimented on. The field doesn’t vet these people out; they’re a threat to us, and nobody is making sure these people don’t have access to us, nobody is protecting us.

We’re human beings. We don’t need to go from one form of dehumanization to another. This doesn’t help. We don’t serve as a feeding ground for other humans. We are not ‘fair game’ for those who are only interested about the twisted workings of the human mind in a traumatic scenario, without being interested in being humane to those who are suffering due to it. We’re human first, struggling second. If we went thru something inhumane, it doesn’t mean it’s now okay to subject us to more such things.

If you notice someone weirdly interested in the details of your trauma, to the point where it’s weird that this person doesn’t feel sickened and affected by the emotional blows from it, be careful of what they want from you. You don’t owe them gratitude for the interest, and you don’t owe them details. You don’t owe it to anyone. It will hurt worse if someone who knows the details, still turns around and dehumanizes you all over again, like everything they know about you just makes this a game that is easy for them to play. You are not be experimented on. You deserve humans who care about what happens to you next.